


Hell On Wheels

by Lyoung_50



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Human Castiel, M/M, Moonshiner!Dean, Sheriff!Castiel, illegall moonshining, rum runners, teenager!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyoung_50/pseuds/Lyoung_50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Castiel Novak used to be a big shot NYPD officer. When an altercation with his brothers leads him to move to Galtinburg, Tennessee, he meets up with local rum-runner/illegal moonshiner, Dean Winchester and his teenage brother, Sam. </p><p>When he falls hopelessly in love with Dean, he risks losing everything to keep Dean out of prison and protect, what he's come to know as the only family he has. He's known that Dean was hell on wheels from the first moment he'd met him, now he's just holding on for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Supernatural and all of its characters belong to Erik Kripke and the CW Network. The title comes from the song of the same title, which belongs to Brantley Gilbert.
> 
> Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Mentions of John and Mary Winchester, Mentions of Lucifer, Balthazar, Michael, and Gabriel.
> 
> Relationship: Dean/Castiel
> 
> Warnings: Illegal moonshining, swearing, violence, sexual content, mentions of previous child abuse when the boys were kids, major character death.

Gatlinburg, Tennessee

13 November, 2013

There were three things that Sheriff Castiel Novak was absolutely certain of.

One- Tennessee was a hell of a lot warmer then New York City.

Two- He kind of missed being an NYPD patrol officer.

Three- Dean Winchester was going to be one helluva problem.

He'd only been on duty for about six hours of his first shift when he'd been dispatched to the Winchester Farm. He'd had a grand old time attempting to find the farm at the end of the curving, twisted dirt drive. It was a hulking structure that seemed to be pinned to the backdrop of sprawling country side. The house seemed to sag in on itself, and Castiel noted that it could use more than a little bit of work. The shutters all hung on rusted hings, and shingles seemed to be falling off in every direction, and the wrap-around porch had flaking, dull grey paint.

He sucked in a deep breath before placing the deep brown cowboy hat (which he'd scowled at when they told him it was part of his uniform) over his well groomed, dark hair and stepping out into the sweltering heat. His uniform clung heavily to his Kevlar and his skin as the humidity immediately caused him to sweat. In the midst of cursing himself out (for the thousandth time that morning) for moving to somewhere so warm, he noted that there was a pair of searing green eyes watching him from a rickety looking rocking chair on the porch.

"Hello." He called, holding up a hand in greeting. The man didn't say anything in response, choosing to watch him walk closer and shift the pocket of chewing tobacco in his bottom lip instead. Castiel noted the large block of wood in his hand, and, more warily, the knife in his opposite hand. It was a nice looking knife; shining blade, and, what looked like, an antler handle. "I'm Sheriff Novak, we got a call about your residence." Silence. "The caller said that they were concerned because they thought they smelled something burning." The man picked up an empty water bottle and spit a long, stringy strand of tobacco juice into it, his eyes never leaving Castiel.

"S'that right?" His voice was low, and gruff, and frankly caught him off guard. His stomach did a complete one-hundred and eighty degree turn and he had to take a moment to compose himself before nodding. "Well, I can assure you, there ain't any fires here."

"Are you sure?" Castiel questioned, not even entirely sure why he was pushing the issue. The man drove the blade of the knife into the chair's arm rest before standing. He stepped to the edge of the porch, his shoulder resting on a pillar and his ankles crossing while he surveyed Castiel's face.

He was taller then Castiel, and had legs that seemed miles long under dirty, torn jeans, which led down to scuffed, brown boots. His broad chest and shoulders were barely concealed under the oil stained grey t-shirt.

"I'm pretty sure that we'd be the first to know if we had a fire, Sheriff." He replied, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. He stared daggers down at Castiel from under the brim of his worn baseball cap that had some whiskey label embroidered on the front. "There something else I can help you with?" His stubbled jaw jutted out slightly with the statement, as if he was daring Castiel to challenge him.

"No, sir. I just wanted to make sure that everyone was safe in the residence." He was irrationally proud of himself for being able to keep the stutter out of his voice that threatened to claw its way out.

"I've never seen you on patrol before. You new or something?" Castiel nodded, and stepped forward to extend his hand.

"Yes, my name is Castiel Novak. Today is actually my first day." He muttered, suddenly feeling shy about that fact.

"Dean Winchester." The other man replied. He took Castiel's hand in his own and shook it twice, his rough callouses scraping over Castiel's own. "Castiel, huh? That's a...well, I ain't gonna sugar coat it, that's a weird name."

"Yes, it is." Castiel nodded once, his eyes training themselves to a spot just above Dean's head so that it at least looked like he was engaging eye contact. "My parents had a pechant for odd names."

"Huh. Well, welcome to Gatlinburg, Cas. Good to meet ya." Castiel was opening his mouth to protest the impromptu nickname when Dean's booming voice cut him off. "Sammy! Get your ass out here! Someone I want you to meet!" Moments later a tall, lanky boy came scurrying around from inside the house. His hair was longer then Dean's and it flopped messily into his face before he brushed it away. "Cas, this is my brother, Sammy. Sammy, Cas."

Sam stuck his hand out in front of him and shook Castiel's once, smiling shyly. He was, by far, the most unassuming, giagantic man that Castiel had ever met...

"Hi, it's nice to meet you, Cas." He mumbled.

"Uh, it's Castiel, actually. It's good to meet you too, Sam."

"Woah." Sam's eyes doubled when Castiel spoke. "You are definitely not from around here, are ya?" Castiel let out an honest laugh and shook his head.

"No, I just moved here from New York City."

"That's awesome!" Sam's eyes lit up at the mention of the city, and he launched into a tangent about the sky scrapers. However, Castiel could only nod and hum in affirmations, because his focus was actually trained on where Dean had gracefully strode down the front steps of the porch and was popping the hood of a sleek, black car. A question from Sam drew his attention away just as Dean was leaning under the hood, that grey t-shirt rising up just enough to show a strip of tanned skin at Dean's hip. "What do you think?"

"I, uh," He coughed into his hand, trying to figure out what the hell Sam had asked him. "What was that?"

"I asked if you wanted to swing by for dinner tonight? You know, tell as all about your NYPD stories?" Cas floundered for a moment, not exactly sure how to react to the question.

"I don't want to intrude. I mean, you guys don't even know me..." He stammered, pulling off his hat and drawing his forearm across the sweat on his forehead that he was sure had more to do with the situation than the heat this time.

"I'm sure Dean wouldn't mind! Hold on a minute. Dean!" Sam called across the drive. Dean's head popped out from under the hood, and his baseball caught on something, knocking it off to reveal a shock of brown hair that practically begged to have fingers running through it. Castiel's tongue was too thick for his mouth and was drier than the Gobi desert. He was going to die of dehydration on the Winchester's lawn, and he hadn't even gotten a proper dinner invitation. It was sadly really... "You mind if Castiel comes over for dinner tonight to tell us some of his old stories."

There was a long moment where Dean simply look between Sam and himself, his expression completely unreadable, even for Castiel, and he felt a knot tying itself in his stomach.

"Don't matter to me." Dean pulled a shrug and wiped the back of his hand across his face, leaving a streak of grease in its wake.

"Uh, oh. Okay, I guess I can do that..." Castiel nodded, his head spinning with the way that the nature of the call had changed from checking for a fire to making dinner plans.

"Awesome!" Sam replied, his face lighting up like a little boy in a toy store. "What time do you get off shift?"

"Six this evening."

"Okay, so you come over after." Sam smiled.

"I guess...I've got to get back to patrol, but I'll, uh, I'll see you guys tonight...then." He was back in his cruiser, his jaw hanging open in shock before he allowed himself to realize that he was pretty sure he'd just fucked up...

Later that night...

The rest of his shift was relatively quite (apart from having to chase a cow off of Main Street) and three hours later, Castiel found himself showered, changed, and standing on the Winchester's doorstep with sweaty palms. He wiped his hands on the front of his black pants and smoothed down the white, button-down shirt and navy blue tie once more. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the nights in Tennessee were cooler than the days and he was able to throw on his favorite trench coat.

He sucked in a deep breath and finally summoned the courage to knock on the door. He waited a long moment, listening to the sounds of clattering around inside until the door swung inward. Dean was standing on the otherside, wearing the same torn jeans, but instead of the grey t-shirt, he had a dark towel draped over his shoulder and his tanned chest was bare.

Castiel opened his mouth, but the words died on his tongue as he watched a droplet of water making its way from a curled strand of hair on Dean's forehead all the way down to the waistband of his jeans. Dean gave him a slow, lazy smile before stepping aside and gesturing for him to come inside.

"Heya, Cas." He rumbled, the smile never wavering. Castiel finally collected his thoughts and shook all of the down right profane images from his head long enough to formulate a response.

"Hello, Dean." His voice was even more gravelly then usual...

"Sammy, your little friend is here." He called, his voice teasing and playful. Sam poked his head into the entry way a few seconds later, a scowl on his face as he stared at Dean. "Hey, no need to break out 'bitch face', I was just letting you know." Dean chuckled, a low sound that Cas immediately decided was something that he needed to hear several more times.

"You're an ass, you know that?" Sam grumbled, turning and heading back towards, what Castiel assumed was, the direction of the kitchen. Dean still had a smug smile on his face when Cas looked at him.

"Nice, uh...nice trench coat." He chuckled, holding out his hand for the jacket as Castiel shrugged out of it. A flutter of embarassment scorched through him, but it immediately left when Dean smiled down at him. "Living room is right through here, feel free to have a seat while Sammy finishes cookin'." Cas waved off the offer and moved into the kitchen to take a seat at the table.

He leaned forward on his elbows and steepled his fingers under his chin as he watched Sam work. He had to admit, however, that he wasn't quite focused on anything the large man said to him. He was too busy straining to catch the grumbled curses from where Dean was struggling with pulling a shirt over his head in the living room.

"So, Castiel, how do you like living in the south?" Sam asked politely, not turning around from the stove. Castiel idly noticed that Sam's drawl was significantly less prominent then Dean's.

"It's hot down here." He replied quietly, glancing over his shoulder and watching Dean stride into the kitchen as well, now clad in a worn, comfortable looking red and blue plaid shirt.

"Well, that's kind of expected isn't it?" Sam chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at him and dishing out some creamy sort of pasta in the pan in front of him onto three cracked dishes.

"I always assumed that it would be warmer then New York City, but I didn't think that it would be quite this sweltering." Dean scoffed and opened the fridge, snagging two bottles of beer.

"Sweltering, huh? You know an awful lot of words that make you sound smart, don't you?" Castiel stared at him a second before shrugging.

"I suppose. Is that a problem?" He gratefully accepted the beer that Dean held out to him and twisted the top off. Dean slumped into the chair opposite him as Sam set plates in front of each of them and sat in his own chair.

"Not so much a problem," Dean grunted around a mouthful of pasta. "More of a quirk. Got me wondering how someone with such a nice big, uh," He swallowed down the pasta and gave Castiel a shark smile that had him pausing with his fork midway to his mouth to admire it. "Vocabulary, winds up playing Barney Fife in some podunk town like this." Castiel stared at him, his head tilting to the side curiously.

"Barney Fife? I'm...I'm sorry, Dean, I don't understand that reference..." The way that Dean's jaw dropped would have been comical had Castiel not been so confused.

"Seriously? You're telling me that you've never seen 'The Andy Griffith Show'?" Castiel shook his head in response. Castiel groaned when the pasta finally hit his tongue.

"Sam, this is delicious!" He mused when he'd finished the mouthful. Sam blushed and mumbled a 'thank you' in response. When Castiel turned back to the conversation with Dean, he was shocked to find the deep emerald of his eyes had yielded to a plume of black pupil. The look was positively predatory and heat curled low in his stomach, causing his throat to tighten.

"Well, I guess next time you come over we're gonna have to remedy that. We'll educate you on how southern law enforcement is supposed to work." Dean chuckled, shoveling more pasta into his mouth. "Huh, Sammy?"

"As long as you don't scare him from coming back." Sam retorted, a playful grin of his own appearing on his face. Dean's brow wrinkled.

"I ain't scarin' him off. Am I, Cas?" Who was Castiel to deny that smooth smile? He shook his head and let his gaze drop to the plate in front of him. He focused on the practised movements of picking up pieces of pasta with the fork, and listened to the sound of Sam and Dean trading verbal jabs. All too quickly, his plate was empty, and so was the bottle of beer in front of him.

"Well, that was amazing." He gave Sam a smile of thanks and stood to wash his dishes. He was halfway to the sink when a large, calloused hand closed over his bicep to stop him.

"Don't worry about it," Dean's voice was far too close for him to not feel his heart nearly stop. "I'll get the dishes. Upstanding gentleman that I am, and all that." He chuckled and pulled the dishes from Castiel's hands.

"Oh, uh, thank you, Dean." He muttered.

"So, you all settled into your new place yet?" Dean questioned. Glancing at the table, Castiel noticed that Sam seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

"I'm...well, I don't exactly have a 'new place' yet. I've been staying at the motel in town since I arrived."

"Seriously? That place is a shit hole." Castiel frowned at Dean. Sure, he knew that the motel with the obnxoiously colored walls, the ancient floral bedspread, and the stench that he seriously hoped was mildew was a shit hole. He also knew that there was no where else around that he could find to rent. Not in his price range, anyway...

"I'm well aware, Dean." He growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, why don't you crash here tonight?" Castiel's head snapped back toward Dean to stare at him.

"I...what? You guys don't even know me." He stammered. Dean pulled a shrug, turning away from the sink to look at him. Castiel fought the twitch of a smile when he saw the soap bubbles clinging to Dean's shirt.

"So? If the hard asses in the county think that you're safe enough to carry a gun and 'protect and serve', all that jazz, then I think you're safe enough to sleep on the couch until you find a place." Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but Dean's soap coated hand covered it, effectiely silencing him. "No arguements. I'll have Sammy grab extra pillows and blankets, and you can borrow a pair of my sweat pants. Simple as that."

"That's very kind of you. Thank you, Dean."

"Least I could do. You kept Sammy entertained for a night, at least." He chuckled, watching as Castiel wiped the soap from his face. He watched as Dean finished the dishes, then went to fetch that pair of sweatpants he'd mentioned, leaving Cas to deal with his own thoughts.

He had a feeling that this wasn't going to end well. After all, he was only a man, and self-restraint could only get him so far.

Yeah, Dean Winchester was definitely going to be a problem...

It was nearly two in the morning when Castiel woke next, looking around the Winchester's living room through bleary eyes. He wasn't quite sure what had woken him until the clatter from somewhere near the kitchen arose again. He was on his feet, drawing his service weapon from under his pillow and thumbing the safety before he could conciously have another thought.

His bare feet carried him nearly silently through the house, his gun extended in front of him. Castiel braced his shoulder on the doorjab at the enterance of the kitchen and scanned the room quickly, finding no movement he advanced.

His body thrummed and his blood pumped sparks of electricity through him, just like every raid he'd ever led in New York, and yet this was...some how different, still. There was a door on the other side of the kitchen that had light filtering underneath it. His brows furrowed as he looked at it. He had been almost positive that it was a pantry or something like that at dinner, but...he slowly moved to it, opening the door and allowing the muzzle of his gun to enter the room before he did.

"You may want to holster that before you hurt someone, Sheriff." Came the gruff voice from around the corner. His shoulders sagged in relief, and he allowed himself to lower the gun, thumbing the safety back on and tucking it into the waistband of borrowed, much too large sweat pants. He stepped into the hallway slowly, and his jaw nearly hit the floor.

The room was dimly lit by a flickering light bulb in the center of the ceiling, but it was enough for him to make out most of the scenery. The hardwood floors were so scuffed and scratched that he couldn't even tell if they had been polished at one point or not, and the stench of something boiling permeated the air. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the room as if they were trying to escape the stench and the light, and the floorboards creaked enough as he stepped on them that he could only picture himself falling straight though to the basement.

Dean was reclined in a rickety looking wooden chair, his feet kicked up on a table in front of him, and a mason jar clutched in his left hand. A dusty, tattered black Stetson hovered loosely on his head, the brim just low enough to shadow those scorching green eyes. Castiel let his eyes roam over the sweat-slicked, grey tank top and light denim for a moment before moving his gaze to the mazes of copper tubing and pumps.

"Dean?" He rasped out, confusion dripping off the name.

"That would be me." Dean gave him that lazy, shit eating grin that made Castiel's stomach flip over like it was going for Olympic gold, and took a sip of the clear liquid in the jar. His breath hissed out between his teeth as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing tantalizingly.

"What...what the hell is this?" Castiel gestured broadly to the set up with one arm. Dean chuckled, capping the jar, and got to his feet, crossing the room in three long strides. He was far too close, crowding into Castiel's personal space and completely erasing his ability to think clearly.

"This is a moonshine still. Ain't you folks got those up in your fancy-ass cities?" His voice was low enough that Castiel didn't know if it could be considered speaking or if it was more acurately a growl...

"M-moonshine?" He gasped, his eyes shooting open wide. "Dean, that's...that's illegal."

"Mhmm." Dean nodded, his face falling serious. He shifted the toothpick that Castiel hadn't even noticed between his teeth. "It's also the way that I pay for things that Sammy needs, how I intend to put him through law school, and how I make a living that he deserves. You going to arrest me? Throw me in county lockup so that some overzealous petty thief can try to make me his bitch?" Castiel couldn't be sure if the way that his head was swimming was due to the alcohol fumes that were wafting from the back of Dean's mouth as he spoke, or the fact that he was so close that their chests brushed with each deep breath. Dean thrust his heads forward, his knuckles settling low against Castiel's stomach, and he held his breath, afraid to even move. "'Cause if you are, let's get this over with, but I want you to remember something. If you take me, their going to put Sam into foster care. He's sixteen. That's going to be on you." Dean snarled, his nose brushing over Castiel's.

"I'm," Castiel swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and shook his head. "I'm not going to arrest you, Dean. This can be our little secret." Dean hesitated a moment before stepping back and dropping his hands. Castiel cursed himself for giving in so easily. Maybe if he threatened to arrest him, he'd come closer again...

"Well...good. Thank you." Dean stammered, obviously flustered by Castiel's response. Castiel nodded slowly.

"Dean, I," He paused, running his hands through his hair (which he was sure was sticking up in a thousand different directions) and huffing out a sigh. "I know that I just met you and Sam today, but...I don't know. There's something that's telling me that you guys are different. I know it sounds stupid but, I want to protect you two."

"Cas, we don't need someone to protect us." Dean replied, his voice a low whisper. It didn't hold any of the biting anger that Castiel had been expecting.

"I know that you don't need it, Dean. I can see that. But, that doesn't mean that I don't want to. I'm a cop. It's my job to protect people, and you boys...you seem special." Dean gave a sad chuckle and shook his head, pulling the hat off and dropping it onto the chair.

"That'd be a first. Sammy and I ain't ever been 'special'."

"Well, then maybe it's time someone showed you that you are." Castiel countered quickly. Dean stared at him for a long moment before letting his head drop forward.

"You're something else, you know that?" He grumbled around a half-assed smile.

"I have been told that before, yes." Castiel deadpanned in response. That sent Dean into a laughing fit so hard that he had tears streaming down his cheeks as he leaned foward, bracing his hands on his knees. When he finally caught his breath and wiped his eyes, Castiel was smirking down at him, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Shoot. Thanks, man, I needed that. I haven't laughed that long in...shit, years." He wheezed.

"You have a nice laugh. You should laugh more often, Dean Winchester." Castiel realized that he'd said it half a second too late and he tried his best to catch the words in the air and suck them back in. Much to his relief, Dean either didn't realize what the statement meant or chose to brush it off with a chuckle and a mumbled 'whatever, man'. "I'm, uh, I'm going to go back to sleep now, Dean."

"Alright. G'night." Castiel nodded, watching as Dean moved back toward the chair. He was halfway back to the kitchen before Dean's voice stopped him. "Hey, Cas? Thanks again. I meant it." Castiel smiled and nodded.

"Of course, Dean."

Oh, yeah.

One hell of a problem...


	2. Chapter 2

12 December, 2013

'A few days' of couch surfing at the Winchester household dissolved into a month before Castiel even knew what had hit him. It was so easy to fall into a routine alongside the two brothers that the simple fact of him no longer looking for an apartment didn't even register.

Mornings were always the most hectic. When he wasn't working the night shift, Castiel was the first one to wake up, much before the sun decided to peek its head over the horizon. On the rare days that he got to go to work after nine in the morning, he would stand in front of the stove with single-minded concentration as he scrambled eggs, toasted bread, and tried his damnedest not to let bacon grease splatter on his bare chest.

Dean would stumble into the kitchen next, his nose held up comically as if he were trailling an imaginary scent trail toward the breakfast. He never failed to toss an off-handed comment at Castiel about how he existed in a constant state of 'sex hair' when he wasn't in uniform, and then would slump into one of the rickety chairs at the table. More often then not, he looked like death warmed over, but Castiel was never sure if that had more to do with being up all night working the still, or the ridiculous amounts of 'shine he consumed himself. Probably a bit of both...

Today was one of those mornings, thankfully, and Castiel chuckled at Dean's joke, poured him a cup of coffee just the way that Dean liked it and pressed it into the other man's hand with a muttered 'asshole'. He was stirring the pan of scrambled eggs when he heard the distinct 'thud' of Sam walking into the door jamb.

"You know, Sammy, if you'd get your damned head outta that book for thirty seconds, you'd probably have less bumps and bruises." Dean scolded, his 'fatherly concern' thinly veiled behind a more brother-like barb. Sam scowled at him over the top of the book with big block lettering declaring 'Advanced Chemistry'.

"You know I have a test today, Dean!" He grumbled, dropping into his own chair and brushing his bangs out of his eyes. Dean simply shook his head and went back to burying himself in his coffee mug.

"Are you prepared for the test?" Castiel asked politely (one of them had to, and Dean was obviously dropping the conversational ball there). Sam smiled at him and pulled a nervous shrug.

"I guess. I...I dunno, we're learning some pretty hard stuff, but I think that I've got it figured out. I'll just be happy when this is over." Sam sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"M'sure you'll blow 'em away, Sammy." Dean smiled as he rose from his place at the table to refill his already drained coffee mug. As he passed by the stove, he reached out to snag a piece of bacon off of the plate next to Castiel. Cas rapped the top of his knuckles with a spatula and scowled at him. "Sorry, dear." Dean scoffed, smirking as he popped the piece of bacon he'd managed to hold on to into his mouth.

"Go away, or you're not getting any breakfast." Castiel pointed towards the table with his spatula, and Dean held his hands up in surrender with an amused chuckle. He went back to checking the eggs, thankful that neither of the brothers could see the blush that he was sure was painting his cheekbones. The whole scene was just a bit too domestic for him to be able to brush off the attraction that he'd been harboring for the older Winchester. Sammy had become like his own brother in the short time that he'd been living at the house, but Dean...Dean was something else. Always had been.

"Earth to Sheriff Space Case!" Dean's deep voice snapped him from his thoughts and he realized that the pan in front of him had begun smoking slightly.

"Shit!" He barked over Dean and Sam's laughter, moving to quickly switch off the stove and move the pan off the burner. Luckily, most of the eggs were still salvagable, and he plated up their food quickly, settling into the chair that he'd declared 'his'. Dean went to work devouring his plate, food seeming to be the only thing that got the man to keep his mouth shut.

Castiel pushed away the voice in the back of his head that practically screamed I can think of other ways to shut him up, and chose to focus on eating his toast before his mouth decided to unconciously speak the thought without his consent.

He had just started nibbling on the bacon when he noticed that both of the others had completely cleared their plates. Sam glanced down at his phone and cursed quietly before he hopped up, threw his dishes in the sink, and snagged his bag off the floor quickly. Castiel slid his plate across the table to where Dean was practically salivating while looking at it. Dean grunted his thanks and began shoveling down the rest of his food as well.

"I gotta go, Jess just texted me and said that she's waiting out front. She's gonna give me a ride home after school. I'll see you this afternoon, Dean. Have a good shift, Cas, be safe. Love you guys!" Sam called, jogging out of the house and climbing into his girlfriend's car. Cas stared at the front door, his jaw hanging open of its own volition.

"You alright?" Dean questioned, his voice low and his eyebrow quirked skyward.

"I...uh, yes. I'm alright." He shook his head and turned to face Dean. Crystalline green eyes stared back at him curiously, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. "Sam...Sam said he loves us. As in you and me."

"Yeah? So?"

"So...I don't know, isn't that a little weird? He just met me a month ago." Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Look, I don't tell this to most people, Cas, and Sammy don't tell it to anyone, so listen close." Cas leaned foward, bracing himself on his elbows on the table to make sure that he didn't miss a word that Dean was about to say. "When we were kids, our dad...well, let's just say he wasn't up for any father of the year awards. Our mom died in a fire at her job when I was four, Sammy was just a baby, and it really fucked Dad up. He turned to the booze, and I tell you, he was a nasty old drunk. Used to beat on me, sometimes he beat on Sammy but..." Dean's eyes went misty for a moment, and Castiel knew that he wasn't in that moment anymore.

"Dean, it's okay, you don't-."

"I know I don't have to. I want to, so shut up and listen." Dean interuppted, shaking Castiel's hand off his forearm. "I used to beg him not to hit Sammy. He was just a kid, I knew he couldn't handle as much as me."

"You were just a kid too, Dean." Cas whispered, his voice gravelly.

"I know, but...I don't know. Dad used to tell me 'watch out for Sammy' when he'd go away from work. It's always been my job to watch out for him, and if that meant taking a few more punches, then that was what I had to do." He gave a sad chuckle and fixed his gaze on the table where he was absently picking at a scratch in the wood with his thumbnail. "Anyway, when Dad died, I told Sammy that it was just going to be me and him against the world. Forever. Sam don't trust people easily, Cas. So, if he says that he loves you, don't question it, and you best not betray it. 'Cause if you hurt Sammy, I'mma have to kick your ass. Clear?"

"Dean, I-."

"I said, clear?" He growled, his eyes boring into Cas. Castiel nodded his agreement.

"Yes, Dean."

"Good. Now that we got that outta the way, how'd you sleep?"

"I slept well. That couch tends to grow on you." Castiel chuckled. It was a bullshit lie, and he was sure that Dean knew that too. There was a spring on that second cushion that Castiel's lower back had gotten to know intimately, and the cushions threatened to swallow him whole every time he shifted in the slightest, but he wasn't going to complain. A place to stay was a place to stay.

"I've been thinking about that, Cas. Why don't," Dean paused, dry swallowing so loudly that his tongue clicked on the roof of his mouth. "We've got that spare room, ain't no reason that you can't set up shop in there."

"Dean, I...this was only supposed to be temporary and you guys have already helped me out so much, I can't expect-."

"You're one stubborn sonuvabitch, you know that?" Dean gave one of those deep, belly laughs that Castiel was positive were the most beautiful sounds in the world. "It's just a room. You're already sacking out on my couch every night, how much of a difference does crashing in the spare room make?"

"You at least have to let me start paying rent, or something, Dean. This is too much." Dean considered him for a long moment, leaning back in his chair and kicking his bare feet up on the chair that Sam had previously been in.

"Tell you what, you keep cooking these breakfasts on the days that you can, make sure Sammy and I don't end up killing each other one of these days, and make sure that my delivery routes are clear of Johnny Law when I make runs and we'll be square. Sound fair?"

Castiel was silent as he stared back at Dean. Clear his delivery routes? It wasn't like Cas didn't already make an effort to make sure that the other patrol was on the other side of town when he knew Dean was making a run (unintentionally of course, because he was an officer of the law and would never betray that...). He was also pretty sure that Dean scheduled his runs for times that Cas was on shift. So, really, that wasn't much of a difference from their routine already, but...this was making it an official, concious decision to aide Dean in bootlegging illegal 'shine. Fuck it. He thought to himself and thrust his hand foward.

"Deal." He conceeded. Dean gave him a slow, dangerous (seductive) smirk and shook his hand. Castiel did his best to ignore the warmth coming from the other man's palm and the way his callouses born from years of handling his gun scraped over Dean's farmer's callouses perfectly.

"Well then, Sheriff Novak, you got yourself a place to live." Dean laughed to himself when he pulled his hand away, after lingering far too long to be socially acceptable. "Then again, it ain't like you been exactly lookin' for a new place."

"What? No, I..."

"C'mon, Cas. I see you every day. You ain't picked up a newspaper in two weeks. Trust me, I'm not complaining, I'm just sayin' that you've been living here for a month already." Dean stood and grabbed both of the dishes to wash them. Castiel stared after him, floundering for something to say in response but coming up empty. "Y'know," Dean started, not even turning away from the sink to look at him. "You could sit there all day trying to find some way to tell me I'm wrong, but you're going to be late." Cas looked down at his watch and cursed.

He scurried through the house, jumping into the shower and scrubbing his hair and body so quickly that he was pretty sure that he almost scraped his skin off. Three minutes after stepping under the spray, he was wrenching the knobs off, throwing a fluffy towel (his own contribution to the tatter and bleach-stained ones that Sam and Dean had been tolerating) around his waist, and drying off quickly. He threw on his last pair of clean underwear (thankful that he had the next day off so that he could do some laundry), and slipped into his uniform pants.

He stepped out into the living room, snagging his duty belt, Maglite, and badge off of the table beside the couch. After tightening the belt and hosltering his Maglite, he slipped on his undershirt and went about strapping into his Kevlar. He had himself turning in a circle, trying to hook the last velcro strap on the back when Dean emerged, chuckling under his breath and stepping closer.

"Here, let me." He muttered, placing a hand to stop Castiel from spinning around again, and easily hooked the strap. Cas told himself that the room was spinning from the assault on his equilibrium. Definitely not the fact that he could smell the fresh, clean scent of Dean's aftershave at this proximity.

"Thank you, Dean." He replied. Dean smiled and clapped him on the back before moving back towards the kitchen.

"So when you get home tonight, we'll move all your stuff out of the barn and into your room. I'll set up the bed before I make my run this afternoon." Castiel stared at his retreating back. Home. His room. A shudder ran through him, but he brushed it off with a quick mental reminder that he was going to be late. He slipped his uniform shirt on and buttoned it with practised ease before hooking the badge through the fabric over his chest. He patted down his belt and then paused, looking around the living room once.

"Dean?" He called, waiting for the other man to step back into the living room.

"Hmm?" Dean questioned around his toothbrush, toothpaste foaming and dribbling down his chin to fall on his bare chest.

"I, uh, have you seen my cuffs?" He questioned when he could regulate his own breathing again. Dean hummed thoughtfully, then held up his index finger and disappearing. He reentered the living room thirty seconds later with the silver cuffs dangling from his index finger. Castiel's mouth went dry. There was an ever present playful glint in Dean's eyes as he stepped close enough to tuck the cuffs into their pouch on Castiel's belt and snapped it closed. "Th-thank you." He stammered. Dean nodded and grunted around the tooth brush, smiling softly. "I'll see you tonight. Be careful on your run, Dean. I'll clear the way."

Dean nodded his thanks and Castiel headed out, snagging his thigh holster off of the hook by the door and strapping it to his leg, holstering his Glock confidently and snapping it securely. He slipped into the front seat of the cruiser and took a deep breath to calm himself before pulling out of the driveway and heading out for another shift.

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The shift went by relatively quickly, until the clock reached four o'clock. The sun had already started to sink below the horizon, and it was making Castiel long for the longer days of summer, but he knew that it was good for Dean. Early sunsets meant that he could get his deliveries out of the way sooner, which meant that there was less chance of Sam asking to tag along. Even though Dean knew that Sam was aware of their little...'family business', Castiel knew that Dean didn't want Sam indulging in it.

"You're so much smarter then that, Sammy. You're gonna graduate and go to that fancy blue-collar school you're always raving about. Gonna be a lawyer so you can defend my ass when I fuck up." Dean would always tell him. Sam, of course, would always roll his eyes and shake the comment off, but he knew that Dean meant well.

Castiel sighed heavily and shifted in the cruiser seat, tired from sitting in one position for so long. He had been parked in an empty parking lot, trying to catch speeders for the past hour, with no action whatsoever. His walkie crackled to life beside him.

"How goes it on your end, Sheriff?" Came the voice of his deputy, Kevin. Good kid, really, but Castiel still thought that he was a little bit odd. There was something about the boy that didn't exactly scream 'law enforcement' to him. Castiel pictured him in the lingustics department of some university, not hunched over the steering wheel of a Crown Vic way past its prime across this podunk town. Dean told him that it was a funding issue with his parents, and a scholarship deadline that had come a week too early.

"Nothing to speak of yet, what about you?" Castiel replied, tapping the walkie against his forehead as he waited for a response.

"About the same. Couple speeders, couple of kids loitering in the back lot of the high school. Looks like all those high ends criminals are hiding out on us." Kevin laughed. Castiel chuckled in reponse before keying his own walkie in.

"Hey, don't jinx us. I'd like to get home at a decent hour tonight, I don't want to be stuck mediating some domestic dispute until two in the morning. You better knock on wood or something like that."

"I'm not nearly superstitious enough for that. I think I'm going to head back to the department, see if I can get on Ellen's nerves."

"Ten-four. Be careful, women like Ellen would eat you alive, Kev." Kevin's laughter echoed back through the walkie like the crackle of a camp fire.

"Ten-four. If I'm not there when you punch out tonight, look for the body."

"Not a chance, kid, I warned you."

"Way to have my back, boss. Over and out." Castiel laughed and laid the walkie back into the cradle between the seats. He scrolled through the calls list on his on-board computer slowly and grumbled to himself. He was about to resort to playing that Sudoku game that Dean had downloaded onto his iPhone for him when the phone buzzed on the dash. He flicked the unlock bar and read the message.

Dean Winchester

R u busy?

Not at the moment, I'm sitting in the old mill parking lot.

He waited for a few minutes with no reply to his message before frowning at the screen and typing out another message.

Why, what's up?

The reply was almost immediate.

Dean Winchester

Nothin, finished the run, gonna grab coffee, u want 1?

Castiel blushed down at the phone and typed out a response.

That sounds wonderful, Dean, thank you.

He exited the messaging app and cued up a Sudoku puzzle. He was volleying between a seven and a three for the bottom left corner when the roar of Dean's Impala filled the air. A smirk stretched across his face and he reached up to turn the cruiser off. When he finally climbed out of the driver's side, Dean was leaning against his Baby's hood, his legs crossed at the ankles so that his scuffed cowboy boots hooked over one another. With his arms crossed over his chest, and a leather jacket clinging to the broad sweep of his shoulders, Dean was the picture of perfection. His dark hair was lacking its usual gel, and the short bangs curled over his forehead softly.

"Hey." Dean rasped with a small smile, extending a steaming paper cup of coffee. Castiel took the coffee gratefully, and smiled at him.

"Hello, Dean."

"How's your shift going? Catchin' all the bad guys?" Dean questioned, sipping his own coffee. Castiel laughed and shook his head.

"Not so much. Kevin was getting more play on his side of town." Dean laughed loudly and looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Why didn't you just switch grids with him? Give yourself something to do?"

"Had to earn my keep." Cas smiled. "See, my roommate has this business and he needs a wide flight plan to operate that business. So I get stuck with the boring end of town while he gets to play Bo Duke."

"Oh, so you can make a Dukes of Hazzard reference, but you don't understand when I make Andy Griffith Show reference?" Dean chuckled, shaking his head.

"I do watch television, Dean. Contrary to your belief."

"S'that why you haven't seen a single Star Wars movie?" Dean quirked a brow skyward as he stared at him. Castiel laughed in response and took a long drink of his coffee.

"Well, you've got me there."

"We've still got to rectify that situation one of these days." Dean muttered absently. The men sat in comfortable silence until Dean turned to look at Cas so quickly that it made Cas jump nearly a foot. "How much long do you have left on your shift?" Castiel looked at his watch, squinting in the dim light of a street lamp.

"About fifteen minutes." Dean sighed and ran his free hand over the back of his neck.

"You think Kevin would mind if you cut out a few minutes early? I mean, you're the Sheriff, who's gonna yell at you?" He gave Cas a smirk. He was halfway back to the cruiser to radio Kevin and tell him that he was heading home before he realized that he probably should not be that easily manipulated by his very, very male, and (from what all the evidence stated) very straight roommate. He shook the thought from his head and had a short conversation with an all too cheerful Kevin to let him know that he was heading home and that he'd see him after his days off.

"Looks like we're all set." He smiled at Dean as he walked back to the Impala. "Now, do you plan on telling me why you wanted me to neglect my responsibility to the people of this fine county?" Dean shook his head, raced around the hood and hopped into the driver's seat. Cas, rolling his eyes the entire way, followed suit and slipped into the passenger's seat. Dean still had that boyish smirk that Castiel loved so much plastered across his face when they tore out of the parking lot and down the abandoned back road.

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The speed that the Impala was reaching on the winding back road should have rightfully terrified Castiel. Especially being an officer of the law...but, for some unknown reason, with Dean behind the wheel he was completely unafraid. Dean had cranked some classic rock song that Castiel had never heard as soon as they had pulled away.

"It's Kansas, Cas! How do you not know 'Carry On Wayward Son'? It's a classic!" He'd raved, taking one hand off the steering wheel to beat out the drum rhythm in the air, and occasionally throwing in an air guitar solo. Castiel had just smiled and shook his head as he pretended to be looking out the windshield instead of watching the boyish excitement on Dean's face.

They drove for quite a while, crossing over two different county lines before Dean pulled onto a dirt road that didn't look like it had been driven on since asphalt had been invented. Castiel's brow furrowed as he looked across the open field that they pulled into. Dean was throwing the car in park and jumping out before Cas had a chance to question it. He followed suit slowly, watching as Dean grabbed a blanket from the trunk and threw it on the hood.

"After you." He gestured for Cas to crawl onto the hood with a broad sweep of his arm and a charming smile. Who was Cas to deny that? With a surprisingly small amount of effort, he found himself situated with his back against the windshield and his legs stretched out on the blanket. Dean climbed up beside him and reclined against the windshield, folding his arms behind his head.

"Not that I don't enjoy the occasional spontaneous road trip, but what are we doing out here, Dean?" He questioned, his voice far quiter then he had intended it to be. There was something about the silence of the vast field that had that effect on him.

"Shut up for two seconds and I'll tell you. Stubborn ass." Dean grumbled, frowning down at him. He extended his arm, index finger point upward towards the sky. "That is why we're here."

Castiel swung his gaze skyward, and every ounce of air in his lungs whooshed out when he saw the sky streaked with flares of lights. The meteors fell one after the other, illuminating the velvet black sky and blocking out the shimmer of several stars each time. He watched in sheer wonder as the blanket of meteors continued.

"Dean, that's..." He paused, grasping for the word to describe it. "This is phenomenal. How did you know about this?" He felt more then saw Dean pulling a shrug beside him.

"Guy down at the salvage yard, Bobby, was telling me he heard something about it on the radio. I figured it'd be worth a look, and I know you're into all that astrology crap."

"That's actually really thoughtful, Dean. Thank you." Castiel murmured. His cheeks hurt from the sheer force of the smile on his face.

"Eh, don't mention it." Dean tried to brush the gratitiude off as if it was something that people did all the time. He didn't understand, though. People didn't do things that were nice for Castiel. They just...didn't. He turned his head to look at the other man, watching the reflection of the meteors in glossy green eyes.

"I mean it, Dean. Thank you." Dean faced him as well, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Okay...alright, Cas. You're, uh, you're welcome." He nodded once. "I have to admit though, this isn't the only reason I brought you out here." Dean continued, hopping off the hood and pacing in front of it. Castiel tilted his head to the side before jumping down himself and standing in front of the car.

"Dean?" He rasped, his voice suddenly seeming to be trying to run away from him. Dean raked his hands through his hair roughly. Castiel had come to know it as a nervous tick that he had, and frankly it was rather endearing most of the time, but at that moment it was a little nerve racking. "Dean." He repeated, quite a bit stronger that time.

"I just...don't...don't hate me, okay?" Castiel let out a nervous laugh. Dean stared back at him with eyes so honest and open that it physically hurt his heart.

"Dean, you're...you're my best friend, I could never hate you." He whispered, afraid that if he spoke to loudly he might spook Dean like a wild mustang.

"That's why I'm afraid you will, Cas. I don't...I don't want to fuck this up, but I...I can't anymore, Cas." He growled, his fists balled at his sides as he stopped his pacing, standing close enough that Cas caught another whiff of that clean, crisp aftershave. But there was something more to the scent now, something he knew as purely Dean. It was heady, and thick, and smelled of pine, leather, and the smell he remembered from camping with his brothers once. He inhaled deeply until his head was swimming with the need for air.

"You can't what, Dean?" He asked. Dean shook his head softly and gave him a gentle smile.

"I just can't." He took another step closer, moving into Cas until he felt the cool dig of the Impala against his back. Cas tilted his head back to look up into Dean's eyes, searching his face for some sign of insanity taking over his rational thinking. "Please, Cas," Dean whispered, dropping his forehead to Castiel's and closing his eyes. "Please don't hate me..." But he didn't give Castiel a chance to respond before he pressed their lips together.

Kissing Dean Winchester was nothing like the blood sport that Castiel had imagined it would be. It was tentative and shy, and a thousand times better then anything he had imagined. His fingers were shaking as they curled into the rough leather of Dean's jacket and pulled him closer.

The whine that clawed at the back of his throat proved to be Dean's breaking point and Castiel found himself wrapped into the aggressive, blood boiling kiss that he had anticipated. Teeth were nipping at his chapped lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, and allowing a warm tongue to sweep into his mouth before he could even conciously react. Dean's right hand hand snaked it's way up to tug at the wild tendrils of Castiel's hair, while the left remained around his waist and kept him pinned to Dean's chest.

When the edges of his mind began to blur from lack of oxygen, he pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed against Dean's as he tried to calm his gasping breaths. Dean's eyes raked over his face, panic written clearly in them.

"Are we...Cas?" He rasped, his own breath coming in short pants.

"You think too much, Dean Winchester." Dean let out a breathy laugh and carded his fingers through Castiel's hair.

"That's the first time that anyone has ever accused me of that." Castiel smirked at him and thumbed across the stubbled line of Dean's jaw.

"I already told you, Dean. I don't hate you. If anything, I'm thankful that you finally came around."

"You know, if you would have clued me in, we could have had a lot more fun this last month." Dean said with a wink. Castiel chuckled, and hauled him in for another kiss.

The last thought that he had before the haze of lust washed over his brain was that the meteor shower was nothing compared to the beauty of Dean's smile melting against his own and the feel of their hearts hammering in tandem.


	3. Chapter 3

December 21, 2013

Castiel had expected things with Dean to be a whirlwind that left him grasping for something to hold on to so he could stay grounded. He had no idea that it would, in fact, be the complete opposite. The night that Dean had kissed him under a meteor soaked sky seemed like it was a lifetime ago, and he was pretty sure that he would have been slipping between Dean's sheets that night.

And yet, he still found himself waking to the familiar scent of his cornflower blue sheets on his bed. In the guest room. Alone. His first thought when Dean had shown him the guest room that night had been that Dean wasn't completely sure about their...relationship. Then it happened again the second night. And the third.

Finally, four days, a thousand far too heated kisses, and more sleepless night then Cas had in years later, he confronted Dean about it. They'd been sitting at the kitchen table, Dean's face hidden behind the latest issue of Motor Trend, and a cooling mug of coffee clutched in a death grip in Cas' hand.

"Dean?" He'd mustered when he finally mustered up the courage.

"Hmm?" Cas must have paused for longer then he had thought, because Dean had peeked over the top of his magazine, his brow quirked skyward. "What's up, Cas?"

"Do you...I mean...you're not having second thoughts about this, are you? Because I would understand if you were, I just don't want to pressure you into-."

"Jesus, Cas, breathe or you're going to make yourself pass out." Dean had chuckled, interuptting Cas' rant as he set the magazine on the table and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not having second thoughts, you're not pressuring me, and you can relax."

"Well, if you're not...if you're not having second thoughts," He sucked a deep breath through his nose and let it out on a sigh. "Why am I still sleeping in the guest room?" He'd said the words so quickly that he would have doubted Dean hearing them if it weren't for the deep, rumbling chuckle.

"Cas, it's not that I don't want to. Believe me, I want to, I just...I don't know. I want to do this right." Dean paused, his words catching in his throat as he got a look of pure nostalgia on his face. "I want to do this the way that my mother would have taught me. I want to make her proud. I want to make you proud, Cas."

Cas had floudered for a moment, his gaping mouth probably looking more like a fish out of water then a man, but he couldn't find the words that he wanted to say. Nothing seemed good enough. Dean had just given him that small half smile that always set Cas on the razors edge of desire, and reached across the table to steal the remains of a cinnamon bun off of Cas' plate.

And Dean had meant it. There had been 'date nights' with Chinese food cartons strewn across the coffee table, Star Wars blaring on the old television, and Cas tucked under Dean's arm while Dean explained each scene in intricate detail. There had been nights of looks across the kitchen table that set Cas' skin on fire while Sam rambled on about all of the things that had happened at school that day. And now, there was a vase of flowers strategically placed next to his badge and gun with a blue ribbon tied around the vase's neck and a notecard protruding from the flowers to proclaim 'good morning'.

Cas smiled and swung his feet over the side of the bed, running his thumb over a velvety petal slowly. He was still staring at the flowers with a soft smile on his face when he heard Dean clearing his throat. His gaze swung to where the other man was leaning solidly against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hey." Cas whispered, his voice still scratchy and rough with sleep. Dean smirked at him.

"Hey yourself. Your hair looks like hell." Cas feigned a glare.

"And you're a hopeless, romantic sap." Dean placed his hand over his heart in mock pain before smiling and crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to Castiel.

"You have to work in an hour." He muttered, leaning in and brushing his nose over Cas'. Cas grumbled nonesense and leaned in, pressing his chapped lips to Dean's. A hum of contentment filled the space between them when his long fingers slid over the curve of Dean's shoulder and neck to pull him closer to deepen the kiss. He growled low in his throat when Dean pulled away, his hand on Cas' chest preventing Cas from following his mouth. "That's an hour to get ready. Rain check?"

"Yeah, yeah." Castiel rolled his eyes, but the grin stayed firmly on his face to make sure that Dean knew he was kidding.

"Don't sound so thrilled to be going to the career that you chose, Mister Novak." Dean laughed, standing back so that Cas could rummage through his closet and pull out a uniform.

"That's Sheriff Novak to you, buddy." He replied, laying the clothes on the bed and snagging his towel from the back of his desk chair. Dean was stiffling a laugh behind his hand when he turned back to him. "What's so funny?"

"You have...c'mere." Dean stepped in front of him and reached a hand up to smooth a wayward strand of hair into some semblance of order, seeming to completely disreguard the fact that Castiel was going to take a shower. Cas smirked and pressed a kiss to the end of Dean's nose before disappearing into the shower.

He rushed through his shower and slipping into all of the essentials for his uniform, and was, thankfully, standing in the kitchen waiting for the last of the coffee to brew for his travel mug fourty-five minutes later. Dean was watching him from his usual chair at the kitchen table, and Sam was loping into the kitchen as well, cellphone connected to his hand, and a Pop Tart hanging from his mouth.

"You know, that'll digest better if you sit your ass down and eat like a normal human being." Dean scolded, pointing at the Pop Tart. Sam grunted in the affirmative, but seemed to be completely ignoring Dean in favor of his phone screen. "You're gonna fry your brain with that thing." Sam grunted again, and Dean sighed, shooting a glance to where Cas was chuckling from the counter.

"No school today, Sam, Bigfoot ate the principal." Sam nodded and mumbled something at him. Castiel laughed low in his throat and placed the cover on the travel mug in front of him. "So, I have my shift until six tonight, you want me to pick up dinner on the way home?" Dean shook his head and drained his own coffee mug.

"Naw, I want to make you dinner tonight. Somethin' special." Cas' eyes lit up at the sound of Dean's teasing tone. He knew that voice...

"Winchester burgers?" His mouth started watering at the idea of the burgers. Dean made one mean hamburger, he seasoned the meat with a batallion of spices that he wouldn't even let Sam know, cooked them for the perfect, predetermined amount of time, and even toasted the buns perfectly.

"You got it." Dean gave him a slow smile in response. Castiel returned the smile and moved to grab his keys off the hook. He leaned down to press a kiss to Dean's lips, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip and teeth nipping into the kiss. Dean groaned low in his throat, pulling away reluctantly and placing his mouth to Cas' ear.

"Sammy is going to be at Jess' house tonight." He rasped, his lips slick from the kiss and gliding over Cas' skin as he spoke. A shudder ran through Cas' body, the heat of Dean's breath shooting straight through his body and settling low in his stomach, his cock twitching appreciatively against his uniform pants. He growled his approval and smirked down at Dean.

"So, we can..." He trailed off, glancing over to where Sam was playing some game on his phone and muttering a 'damn it' to himself, completely unaware. He raised his brows skyward as he looked at Dean.

"If you want to, hell yes, we can." Dean replied, that predatory glint in his eye. Castiel was contemplating kicking Sam out of the kitchen and letting Dean bend him over the table, but Dean pressed a hand to the center of his chest. "You gotta go, babe. You're gonna be late." He whispered.

"I know." Cas sighed, turning to walk away, but Dean's hand on his bicep stopped him. He turned around, his brow quirked skyward. Dean just smiled and reached under the uniform shirt to hook a piece of his Kevlar that had come undone.

"Don't want to leave that unhooked." He muttered with an oddly shy smile. Cas placed one last chaste kiss to his lips and was half way out of the kitchen when Sam looked up, his brow furrowed. He glanced at Cas curiously.

"Did you say something about Bigfoot?"

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Cas wasn't sure what the feeling that had settled low in his gut was, but it was gnawing at him like a monster. The feeling was heavy and weighed down his shoulders as he sat in his cruiser, thumbing through paperwork of the few traffic stops that he'd executed on shift so far. He brushed it off as lack of sleep and excitement about getting home to Dean that night.

"Attention all units," Came Ellen's crackling voice through the walkie, snapping him from his thoughts. "We've got an officer in need of assistance." Castiel listened as she rattled off an address before keying his walkie and responding.

"This is thirteen-xray-thirteen, I'm about two minutes from that location, en route now." He dropped the walkie into the seat, flicked his lights and sirens on, and tore out the parking lot, throwing up gravel behind the cruiser.

He was skidding to a stop in front of a delapitated house in under two minutes, his door flying open before he'd even thrown the cruiser into park. As soon as he'd stopped, he grabbed for his gun and advanced on the house. The calm that surrounded the house was eerie, the wail of sirens in the background a melancholy symphony.

"Sheriff's Department, I'm coming in the residence." He called out as he stepped through the partially open door. The house smelled of mildew, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke that clung to the walls like a plant vine. Every muscle in his body was ridged as he moved silently down the hallway, his gun still drawn. The sun had started going down already, and the waning light sprayed through the windows, bathing all of the torn and tattered furniture in an eerie golden glow.

He cleared the bottom half of the house quickly, but found no sign of the officer who's cruiser was parked haphazardly on the curb in front of the house. He was halfway up the set of rickety stairs when the smell of moonshine burning hit him full force. Living with Dean, he'd come to know that smell intimately, it clung to Dean's skin and his hair after long nights beside the still and hung in the back of the Impala for hours after he completed a run.

"Shit." He cursed under his breath and scampered up the rest of the stairs. "Sheriff's Department, come out with your hands up!" He called again. He started down the long hallway, headed towards the one room that had shadows moving across the floor. "I said come out!" The flat sound of metal meeting skin, and a muted groan had him running towards the room, stopping only when his shoulder was even with the door frame and his back was pressed against the wall which was slick from the humidity.

"Castiel? Is that you?" Cas' eyes widened and he swallowed down the acidic bubble of bile that rose in his throat.

"Yes, it's me. How are you doing, Kevin?" He called, trying his best to keep the waver from his voice.

"I'm...well, I'll be honest, I've had better days."

"Give me a SitRep, Kev."

"Well, this psycho," A grunt of pain echoed through the room as the sound of metal, which Cas assumed had to be a gun, cracked against Kevin's skin. "Has a gun trained on me, and seems to be very fond of trying to kill my brain cells with it."

"Okay, look, let Kevin go, and we can talk this out. No need for things to get out of hand, right?" He called, letting the back of his head drop to the wall as he tried to control his breathing.

"Sorry, love, don't think that I believe you." The reply came in a thick British accent, which frankly shocked Castiel. That was unexpected.

"You're obviously not from around here." Cas replied, trying to get the man to let his guard down enough to switch the balance of power. Hostage negotiation 101.

"Not quite."

"Where are you from?"

"My mother."

"Okay, how about we start with something easier, what's your name?"

"Crowley, why? You planning on getting it tattooed on your arse?" Cas sighed and shook his head.

"I just figured that we could get on a more personal basis if this isn't going to be over any time soon."

"Look, I know that they taught you all that fancy hostage crap, but it's not going to work here, I'm afraid, darling. Your little friend stumbled upon something that he had no business investigating, now he's seen a bit too much of my operation. I'm not going to go to prison because he was a nosey little twit." Castiel cursed under his breath.

He knew that there was no way that this was going to end well, but he also knew that he couldn't leave Kevin in their by himself. He leaned forward just enough to see around the corner and got a general idea of the layout of the room. He sucked a deep breath through his nose and laid a hand to the gold cross resting against his chest under his uniform, counted to five and then darted in the open doorway.

He leveled his gun to where Crowley was standing behind Kevin. Kevin's eyes locked with his, the sheer terror there something that he hadn't been expecting. Sure, Kevin looked like a 'nerd', but Cas had seen him go through some shit in the past few months without being phased.

"My, my, aren't you awfully pretty for a copper?" Crowley cooed, a sadistic smirk plastered to his face.

"Put the gun down." Castiel growled, his voice dropping an entire octave and rumbling through his chest. Crowley laughed loudly.

"I don't think so." Cas raised his gun and took another step closer, his eyes still locked with Kevin's. He tried his damndest to convey his plan to Kevin telepathically, and it seemed to have worked, because Kevin gave him an almost impreceptible nod. In one fluid motion, Kevin threw his torso forward and his elbow back until it connected with Crowley's ribcage.

Cas drew his weapon level with Crowley's head, and squeezed the trigger as soon as Kevin had rolled out of the way. The sound of the shot was deafening. Far louder then it rightfully should have been...

It wasn't until Cas felt the radiating heat through his torso that he realized he and Crowley were both holding smoking guns in their hands. He watched a dribble of blood flow down the front of the other man's shirt before Crowley collapsed onto the floor. Kevin sat up and looked over the slump of man before glancing to Castiel, a broad smile on his face.

"Thanks, Castiel." He muttered. Cas wanted to respond, but his chest was heaving, and his breath was coming in short gasps as he dropped to his knees, the gun falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. "Castiel?" Kevin's voice was panicked as he scampered across the floor, catching Cas in his lap as he slumped over to the side, his hand pressed against his own chest. He vaguely heard Kevin radioing for an ambulance as his eyes began to slip closed. "Help's coming, Castiel, you gotta stay with me, okay? C'mon, stay awake." Kevin's hand connected with his cheek, slapping him lightly. "Castiel!" Cas drew a deep breath in, ignoring the flare of pain through his chest, and placed his hand on Kevin's cheek.

December 21, 2013

Castiel had expected things with Dean to be a whirlwind that left him grasping for something to hold on to so he could stay grounded. He had no idea that it would, in fact, be the complete opposite. The night that Dean had kissed him under a meteor soaked sky seemed like it was a lifetime ago, and he was pretty sure that he would have been slipping between Dean's sheets that night.

And yet, he still found himself waking to the familiar scent of his cornflower blue sheets on his bed. In the guest room. Alone. His first thought when Dean had shown him the guest room that night had been that Dean wasn't completely sure about their...relationship. Then it happened again the second night. And the third.

Finally, four days, a thousand far too heated kisses, and more sleepless night then Cas had in years later, he confronted Dean about it. They'd been sitting at the kitchen table, Dean's face hidden behind the latest issue of Motor Trend, and a cooling mug of coffee clutched in a death grip in Cas' hand.

"Dean?" He'd mustered when he finally mustered up the courage.

"Hmm?" Cas must have paused for longer then he had thought, because Dean had peeked over the top of his magazine, his brow quirked skyward. "What's up, Cas?"

"Do you...I mean...you're not having second thoughts about this, are you? Because I would understand if you were, I just don't want to pressure you into-."

"Jesus, Cas, breathe or you're going to make yourself pass out." Dean had chuckled, interuptting Cas' rant as he set the magazine on the table and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not having second thoughts, you're not pressuring me, and you can relax."

"Well, if you're not...if you're not having second thoughts," He sucked a deep breath through his nose and let it out on a sigh. "Why am I still sleeping in the guest room?" He'd said the words so quickly that he would have doubted Dean hearing them if it weren't for the deep, rumbling chuckle.

"Cas, it's not that I don't want to. Believe me, I want to, I just...I don't know. I want to do this right." Dean paused, his words catching in his throat as he got a look of pure nostalgia on his face. "I want to do this the way that my mother would have taught me. I want to make her proud. I want to make you proud, Cas."

Cas had floudered for a moment, his gaping mouth probably looking more like a fish out of water then a man, but he couldn't find the words that he wanted to say. Nothing seemed good enough. Dean had just given him that small half smile that always set Cas on the razors edge of desire, and reached across the table to steal the remains of a cinnamon bun off of Cas' plate.

And Dean had meant it. There had been 'date nights' with Chinese food cartons strewn across the coffee table, Star Wars blaring on the old television, and Cas tucked under Dean's arm while Dean explained each scene in intricate detail. There had been nights of looks across the kitchen table that set Cas' skin on fire while Sam rambled on about all of the things that had happened at school that day. And now, there was a vase of flowers strategically placed next to his badge and gun with a blue ribbon tied around the vase's neck and a notecard protruding from the flowers to proclaim 'good morning'.

Cas smiled and swung his feet over the side of the bed, running his thumb over a velvety petal slowly. He was still staring at the flowers with a soft smile on his face when he heard Dean clearing his throat. His gaze swung to where the other man was leaning solidly against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hey." Cas whispered, his voice still scratchy and rough with sleep. Dean smirked at him.

"Hey yourself. Your hair looks like hell." Cas feigned a glare.

"And you're a hopeless, romantic sap." Dean placed his hand over his heart in mock pain before smiling and crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to Castiel.

"You have to work in an hour." He muttered, leaning in and brushing his nose over Cas'. Cas grumbled nonesense and leaned in, pressing his chapped lips to Dean's. A hum of contentment filled the space between them when his long fingers slid over the curve of Dean's shoulder and neck to pull him closer to deepen the kiss. He growled low in his throat when Dean pulled away, his hand on Cas' chest preventing Cas from following his mouth. "That's an hour to get ready. Rain check?"

"Yeah, yeah." Castiel rolled his eyes, but the grin stayed firmly on his face to make sure that Dean knew he was kidding.

"Don't sound so thrilled to be going to the career that you chose, Mister Novak." Dean laughed, standing back so that Cas could rummage through his closet and pull out a uniform.

"That's Sheriff Novak to you, buddy." He replied, laying the clothes on the bed and snagging his towel from the back of his desk chair. Dean was stiffling a laugh behind his hand when he turned back to him. "What's so funny?"

"You have...c'mere." Dean stepped in front of him and reached a hand up to smooth a wayward strand of hair into some semblance of order, seeming to completely disreguard the fact that Castiel was going to take a shower. Cas smirked and pressed a kiss to the end of Dean's nose before disappearing into the shower.

He rushed through his shower and slipping into all of the essentials for his uniform, and was, thankfully, standing in the kitchen waiting for the last of the coffee to brew for his travel mug fourty-five minutes later. Dean was watching him from his usual chair at the kitchen table, and Sam was loping into the kitchen as well, cellphone connected to his hand, and a Pop Tart hanging from his mouth.

"You know, that'll digest better if you sit your ass down and eat like a normal human being." Dean scolded, pointing at the Pop Tart. Sam grunted in the affirmative, but seemed to be completely ignoring Dean in favor of his phone screen. "You're gonna fry your brain with that thing." Sam grunted again, and Dean sighed, shooting a glance to where Cas was chuckling from the counter.

"No school today, Sam, Bigfoot ate the principal." Sam nodded and mumbled something at him. Castiel laughed low in his throat and placed the cover on the travel mug in front of him. "So, I have my shift until six tonight, you want me to pick up dinner on the way home?" Dean shook his head and drained his own coffee mug.

"Naw, I want to make you dinner tonight. Somethin' special." Cas' eyes lit up at the sound of Dean's teasing tone. He knew that voice...

"Winchester burgers?" His mouth started watering at the idea of the burgers. Dean made one mean hamburger, he seasoned the meat with a batallion of spices that he wouldn't even let Sam know, cooked them for the perfect, predetermined amount of time, and even toasted the buns perfectly.

"You got it." Dean gave him a slow smile in response. Castiel returned the smile and moved to grab his keys off the hook. He leaned down to press a kiss to Dean's lips, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip and teeth nipping into the kiss. Dean groaned low in his throat, pulling away reluctantly and placing his mouth to Cas' ear.

"Sammy is going to be at Jess' house tonight." He rasped, his lips slick from the kiss and gliding over Cas' skin as he spoke. A shudder ran through Cas' body, the heat of Dean's breath shooting straight through his body and settling low in his stomach, his cock twitching appreciatively against his uniform pants. He growled his approval and smirked down at Dean.

"So, we can..." He trailed off, glancing over to where Sam was playing some game on his phone and muttering a 'damn it' to himself, completely unaware. He raised his brows skyward as he looked at Dean.

"If you want to, hell yes, we can." Dean replied, that predatory glint in his eye. Castiel was contemplating kicking Sam out of the kitchen and letting Dean bend him over the table, but Dean pressed a hand to the center of his chest. "You gotta go, babe. You're gonna be late." He whispered.

"I know." Cas sighed, turning to walk away, but Dean's hand on his bicep stopped him. He turned around, his brow quirked skyward. Dean just smiled and reached under the uniform shirt to hook a piece of his Kevlar that had come undone.

"Don't want to leave that unhooked." He muttered with an oddly shy smile. Cas placed one last chaste kiss to his lips and was half way out of the kitchen when Sam looked up, his brow furrowed. He glanced at Cas curiously.

"Did you say something about Bigfoot?"

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Cas wasn't sure what the feeling that had settled low in his gut was, but it was gnawing at him like a monster. The feeling was heavy and weighed down his shoulders as he sat in his cruiser, thumbing through paperwork of the few traffic stops that he'd executed on shift so far. He brushed it off as lack of sleep and excitement about getting home to Dean that night.

"Attention all units," Came Ellen's crackling voice through the walkie, snapping him from his thoughts. "We've got an officer in need of assistance." Castiel listened as she rattled off an address before keying his walkie and responding.

"This is thirteen-xray-thirteen, I'm about two minutes from that location, en route now." He dropped the walkie into the seat, flicked his lights and sirens on, and tore out the parking lot, throwing up gravel behind the cruiser.

He was skidding to a stop in front of a delapitated house in under two minutes, his door flying open before he'd even thrown the cruiser into park. As soon as he'd stopped, he grabbed for his gun and advanced on the house. The calm that surrounded the house was eerie, the wail of sirens in the background a melancholy symphony.

"Sheriff's Department, I'm coming in the residence." He called out as he stepped through the partially open door. The house smelled of mildew, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke that clung to the walls like a plant vine. Every muscle in his body was ridged as he moved silently down the hallway, his gun still drawn. The sun had started going down already, and the waning light sprayed through the windows, bathing all of the torn and tattered furniture in an eerie golden glow.

He cleared the bottom half of the house quickly, but found no sign of the officer who's cruiser was parked haphazardly on the curb in front of the house. He was halfway up the set of rickety stairs when the smell of moonshine burning hit him full force. Living with Dean, he'd come to know that smell intimately, it clung to Dean's skin and his hair after long nights beside the still and hung in the back of the Impala for hours after he completed a run.

"Shit." He cursed under his breath and scampered up the rest of the stairs. "Sheriff's Department, come out with your hands up!" He called again. He started down the long hallway, headed towards the one room that had shadows moving across the floor. "I said come out!" The flat sound of metal meeting skin, and a muted groan had him running towards the room, stopping only when his shoulder was even with the door frame and his back was pressed against the wall which was slick from the humidity.

"Castiel? Is that you?" Cas' eyes widened and he swallowed down the acidic bubble of bile that rose in his throat.

"Yes, it's me. How are you doing, Kevin?" He called, trying his best to keep the waver from his voice.

"I'm...well, I'll be honest, I've had better days."

"Give me a SitRep, Kev."

"Well, this psycho," A grunt of pain echoed through the room as the sound of metal, which Cas assumed had to be a gun, cracked against Kevin's skin. "Has a gun trained on me, and seems to be very fond of trying to kill my brain cells with it."

"Okay, look, let Kevin go, and we can talk this out. No need for things to get out of hand, right?" He called, letting the back of his head drop to the wall as he tried to control his breathing.

"Sorry, love, don't think that I believe you." The reply came in a thick British accent, which frankly shocked Castiel. That was unexpected.

"You're obviously not from around here." Cas replied, trying to get the man to let his guard down enough to switch the balance of power. Hostage negotiation 101.

"Not quite."

"Where are you from?"

"My mother."

"Okay, how about we start with something easier, what's your name?"

"Crowley, why? You planning on getting it tattooed on your arse?" Cas sighed and shook his head.

"I just figured that we could get on a more personal basis if this isn't going to be over any time soon."

"Look, I know that they taught you all that fancy hostage crap, but it's not going to work here, I'm afraid, darling. Your little friend stumbled upon something that he had no business investigating, now he's seen a bit too much of my operation. I'm not going to go to prison because he was a nosey little twit." Castiel cursed under his breath.

He knew that there was no way that this was going to end well, but he also knew that he couldn't leave Kevin in their by himself. He leaned forward just enough to see around the corner and got a general idea of the layout of the room. He sucked a deep breath through his nose and laid a hand to the gold cross resting against his chest under his uniform, counted to five and then darted in the open doorway.

He leveled his gun to where Crowley was standing behind Kevin. Kevin's eyes locked with his, the sheer terror there something that he hadn't been expecting. Sure, Kevin looked like a 'nerd', but Cas had seen him go through some shit in the past few months without being phased.

"My, my, aren't you awfully pretty for a copper?" Crowley cooed, a sadistic smirk plastered to his face.

"Put the gun down." Castiel growled, his voice dropping an entire octave and rumbling through his chest. Crowley laughed loudly.

"I don't think so." Cas raised his gun and took another step closer, his eyes still locked with Kevin's. He tried his damndest to convey his plan to Kevin telepathically, and it seemed to have worked, because Kevin gave him an almost impreceptible nod. In one fluid motion, Kevin threw his torso forward and his elbow back until it connected with Crowley's ribcage.

Cas drew his weapon level with Crowley's head, and squeezed the trigger as soon as Kevin had rolled out of the way. The sound of the shot was deafening. Far louder then it rightfully should have been...

It wasn't until Cas felt the radiating heat through his torso that he realized he and Crowley were both holding smoking guns in their hands. He watched a dribble of blood flow down the front of the other man's shirt before Crowley collapsed onto the floor. Kevin sat up and looked over the slump of man before glancing to Castiel, a broad smile on his face.

"Thanks, Castiel." He muttered. Cas wanted to respond, but his chest was heaving, and his breath was coming in short gasps as he dropped to his knees, the gun falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. "Castiel?" Kevin's voice was panicked as he scampered across the floor, catching Cas in his lap as he slumped over to the side, his hand pressed against his own chest. He vaguely heard Kevin radioing for an ambulance as his eyes began to slip closed. "Help's coming, Castiel, you gotta stay with me, okay? C'mon, stay awake." Kevin's hand connected with his cheek, slapping him lightly. "Castiel!" Cas drew a deep breath in, ignoring the flare of pain through his chest, and placed his hand on Kevin's cheek.

"Get...Dean." He rasped, his voice hoarse and forced. The floor seemed to fall out from underneath him, and then the world just disappeared into an ebony veil of darkness.

X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Cas' first instinct was to reach over and slap his alarm clock, but the second his arm shot out to the side, pain radiated through his entire body. He hissed quietly, his eyes shooting open and revealing an unfamiliar room. He glanced around slowly, squinting against the bright, florescent lights on the ceiling.

"Cas?" He knew that voice...Dean's green eyes soon loomed over him, concern etched into the little lines at the corners of his eyes that Cas loved so much. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic little squeak. He scowled, but watched as Dean snagged a cup of water off a tiny table and helped get the bendy straw situated in Cas' mouth. "There ya go, buddy." He whispered, smoothing his hand over Cas' hair as he drank until his mouth didn't feel like the Sahara desert anymore.

"Thank you, Dean." He said, much happier that his voice came out sounding slightly more human that time. "What happened?"

"You got shot." Cas' eyes shot open and his hand groped at his chest. There was a flare of pain, but he couldn't find any bulking wound dressings, which was confusing as hell. "Your vest took the bullet, but it still broke a few ribs. Doc says you almost punctured a lung, Cas." Dean's voice cracked and waivered as he spoke, the sound of it breaking Cas' heart. He reached out and placed a hand on Dean's cheek, his thumb brushing over the dusting of freckles under his eyes.

"I'm right here, Dean. Right here." He whispered, bringing Dean closer and kissing his forehead.

"But you might not have been." Dean replied, his voice muffled into the crook of Cas' neck. "You might not have been, Cas."

"But I am. That's what matters." He carded his fingers through the short hair at the base of Dean's skull, careful not to move his arms too much. "At least I had my Kevlar. Thank you for making sure that it was Velcroed this morning." Dean let out a wet, sad chuckle and nodded, his hair brushing over Cas' cheek. "Does Sam know?"

"Not yet, he's still at Jess' house. I haven't even thought to text him yet. Shit, I gotta tell Sammy." Dean mumbled, pulling away and wiping his nose with the back of his hand like a toddler. Cas grimaced as he stretched, grabbing the box of tissues off of the bedside table and handed one to Dean. Dean smiled his thanks, blowing his nose loudly as he slipped his phone out of his pocket to text Sam. When he finished, he found Cas staring at him curiously.

"How are you doing?" He questioned. Dean let out another laugh and shook his head.

"How am I doing? You're laying in a hospital bed after being shot, and you want to know how I'm doing?" Cas nodded slowly. "You're a crazy shit, you know that?"

"I've heard that once or twice." He paused for half a beat, frowning at Dean before continuing. "I'm sorry that I ruined our plans for the evening, Dean."

"Cas. No." Dean shook his head and laced his fingers through Cas'. "Don't even think about any of that right now, you just focus on gettin' better, understand?" Cas picked at the grey hospital blanket with his free hand, pointedly avoiding Dean's gaze. "Understand?"

"Yes, Dean." He brought his gaze back up, shy blue eyes meeting fiery green. "I understand."

"Good. Now that that's settled, let's see if we can get a nurse in here, and get you some more pain meds, huh?" Cas shook his head and reached over to grab Dean's wrist. He moved his free hand to brush open the hospital gown he was wearing. A spider web of bruising stretched across the better part of his chest, but he still pulled Dean's hand to his chest and pressed it over his heart.

He watched Dean's face as he felt the beating of Cas' heart under his fingertips, his face staring down at his chest in wonder. When Dean's eyes lifted to Cas' face, they were glassy and tear coated.

"Dean," He rasped, his throat tight with his own emotion. "I'm okay. I promise. I wouldn't lie to you, Dean." Dean gave another sad smile, and leaned forward, brushing his lips across the pattern of bruising. Cas' breath hitched in his throat at the feeling of his lips and nose dragging across his battered skin.

"Who was it that did this to you?" Dean's voice was barely above a growl as he spoke. Cas could feel the tension radiating through the other man's muscles.

"He said his name was Crowley. I killed him, Dean you don't have to worry about it." Dean's jaw was tense, but he didn't say anything. Cas thought for a moment before sighing and continuing the story. "It was a bullshit dispatch. Kevin was there because Crowley was running a still out of that abandoned house by the county line."

"Shine? He was a shiner?" Dean jumped off the bed fast enough that the mattress sprung slightly, sending a scorching pain through Cas' chest, but he locked it down. He didn't want to freak Dean out.

"Dean, there are hundreds of other people running stills. Don't make this personal just because he was in the same business." Dean was still pacing the length of the room, muttering loudly to himself. "Dean, please?" That had Dean slowing to a stop at the foot of the bed. He raked his fingers through his hair until it was sticking up in a hundred different directions. Cas smiled gently at him, bringing a frown to Dean's face.

"What are you smirkin' at?" He grumbled. Cas lifted his hand and gestured for Dean to sit next to him on the bed.

"Your hair looks like shit." Cas chuckled, reaching out to smooth the tendrils of hair into order. Dean smiled down at him, his arms bracing on either side of Cas' head.

"I think that's my line." He whispered, leaning in and brushing his nose over Cas'.

"Hmm. Maybe, but if the shoe fits, babe." Cas smirked, leaning up and pressing his lips to Dean's. The sound of Sam's voice as he frantically demanded to know which room Cas was in. Dean chuckled and glanced at the door.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Cas." He placed his palm against Cas' cheek, the sound of Sam's heavy footsteps getting closer. "I'm never going to let you get hurt again. Ever."

"You can't promise that, Dean." Cas sighed, watching Dean through sad eyes.

"I can, because I'm not going to let anything hurt you ever again. As long as I'm alive, Cas, you're going to be safe. I promise."

"What happens when you aren't around me anymore, Dean?" Cas immediately regretted the words when he saw the flash of hurt across Dean's face.

"What the hell makes you think I'm going anywhere? I'm in this, Cas. All the way, better or worse, like it or not, you're stuck with me."

"Better or worse can get pretty shitty. The life of a cop isn't an easy one, the family of a cop is even harder."

"But I want that. With you. All of it, the shitty parts, the good parts. I want barbeques with you and Sammy, and I want to take you to dinner at some cheesy-ass restaurant where I have to wear a suit jacket and everything." Dean inhaled sharply and shook his head on a breathy chuckle. "I want to be the one to make sure that you're okay, and I want to be the one that you come home to at night."

"Dean, I-."

"I'm not finished." Dean held his hand up, cutting Cas off abruptly. "I want to wake up, every morning, and see you staring back at me from the other side of my bed. I know that you like watching me sleep, don't pretend like you've never done it, I've seen you, and frankly, it's less creepy then it probably should be. You spend so much time protecting everyone else, Cas. The city. Me. Sammy. Who the hell protects you?"

"I can take care of myself, Dean." Cas replied, his brow furrowed.

"So can I, and so can Sam. Every Goddamned person in this town can, but with you around, they don't have to. And, now, you don't have to. Let me protect you. You and Sammy are the most important things in the world to me. Let me show you." Cas opened his mouth a few times, searching for the words that would convey how he felt, but damned if he wasn't speechless for a few moments.

"You can't save everyone, Dean." He sighed, shaking his head and reaching out to lace his fingers with Dean's. He placed a trail of kisses to bruised and battered knuckles. "But you try." Dean smiled shyly. Cas glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who was standing in the doorway, tears hovering on the corners of his eyes. This was it. This was Cas' 'end game'. His family. "Okay. Okay, Dean."

If Dean wanted to protect him and Sam, he could at least give them that.

He had to.

Anything for the Winchesters.


	4. Chapter 4

January 21, 2014

The holidays flew by in a blur of pain killers, doctor's appointments, and Dean doting far more then was truly necessary. Cas had ended up sending Sam to the auto store to pick out something Dean needed for the Imapala for his Christmas gift (Lord knew he was hopeless when it came to cars), and he'd gotten Sam a new e-reader so that he'd stop toting around those books in his backpack that Cas kept telling him was terrible for his shoulders. He had ended up in some semblance of a sitting position on the couch, an amused smile on his face as they both tore through the wrapping paper like little kids.   
If he had to think back to it, the first week after the shooting was the worst, Cas found that he couldn't even sniffle or shift without Dean barreling in from whatever room he'd been in and demanding to know if he was alright, his eyes wild and fearful.   
Things got a little better after that, though, when Castiel had reluctantly dragged himself back in to work (with the promise that he was going to remain behind a desk in the office all shift), so Dean couldn't be stuck to him like used gum. That didn't mean, however, that his phone didn't go off every twenty minutes to make sure that he was alright.   
It was cute, really, Cas thought as he stood in front of the mirror and dried his bare chest off, careful of the yellowing bruises. He loved that Dean cared enough to mother-hen him, but it was honestly refreshing to be able to shower without intense green eyes burning holes through the bathroom door. He pulled the fluffy, grey towel across his chest slowly, pleased to find that the sharp pain from when the injury started had faded into a dull throb that was more of an annoyance then anything.   
He gave himself a last sparing glance in the mirror before moving through the quiet house to his bedroom. A cool breeze blew through the open expanse of the living room, drawing a bone deep shudder from him.   
"Well, if that ain't a sight to rival every porno I ever saw, I don't know what is." Dean drawled. Cas' head snapped up to find him leaning on the door frame between the kitchen and the living room. He chuckled and carded his long, slender fingers through his wet hair, sending a few droplets of water flying.   
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's dangerous to sneak up on a cop?"   
"Yeah, but I ain't very good at taking advice." He gave Cas a shark smile and pushed off the door frame, crossing the living room in a few measured strides. His eyes flickered a bit as he looked at the ever fading stretch of bruising. "How's it doing?" Cas lifted his hand and pressed it against Dean's cheek, the rough scratch of a day's stubble tingling through his arm.   
"Dean," He rasped, his voice more rough then usual. "I've told you, I'm fine. Bruises heal." The words were lost on his tongue when Dean's nose brushed across his cheek and he mouthed along the curve of Cas' jaw, his teeth slipping along the skin. His hands were shaky as they came up to curl against Dean's shoulders through his thin t-shirt.   
"Sammy left for school." He pressed a kiss to the skin just below Cas' Adam's apple. Cas swallowed thickly and nodded, not trusting his voice to come out if he tried to speak. "You don't have to work today." He shook his head, causing Dean's hair to brush over the bottom of his chin. "I don't have a run. You're feeling better." His hands brushed over Cas' hips where they poked out from under the towel.   
"Dean," He growled, leaning forward and capturing Dean's ear between his teeth. A groan rumbled through Dean's chest as he dragged their hips together, his thumbs digging into Cas' hip bones. "Are you sure?"   
"We've waited long enough for this, Cas. I've never been more sure." He breathed, leaning down and pressing his lips to Cas'. Cas groaned low in the back of his throat, his hands tightening as Dean's tongue slipped its way past his teeth, skating over the roof of his mouth. When Dean's teeth nipped at his lower lip, the change in the air between them was almost palpable. Cas' back was connecting with the wall and Dean's teeth were descending on his collar bone before he had a chance to think.   
He groaned, a low and throaty sound, and squirmed when Dean's thumb nail clipped one of his nipples. He felt the other man's lips curling into a smile against his skin when the whimper of pleasure fell from his lips. His fingers threaded through Dean's hair, holding him in place as he sucked bruises across his skin.   
"God, you're so beautiful, Cas." Dean hissed, his tongue dragging over the bite stung skin. "So damned beautiful."  
"Dean, please." He moaned, pressing his hips forward to grind his growing erection against Dean, the terry cloth of the towel brushing over his sensitized skin and sending a shudder through him. Dean's deft, calloused fingers slid under the top of the towel, loosening it enough that it fell into a pool around Cas' feet.   
He reached for the hem of Dean's shirt and pulled it over his head, finally getting a chance to look at the bare skin without the barrier of so much as a sweat drenched tank top. Thick ridges of scars trailed across the expanse of his chest, and there was a thick black tattoo etched just above his heart.   
Cas' hand was shaking as he reached forward, brushing his thumb over the tattoo before leaning in to press his lips to it. He felt Dean's hand in his hair, and felt his hot breath against his ear. He hesitated reverantly, running his tongue over the black ink, if for no other reason then to see if it tasted different than the rest of Dean. It was blissfully the same.   
"Babe?" Dean breathed against his ear, his tongue curling over the shell of it. Cas groaned and let his hands skitter over Dean's ribs, and down his stomach until he reached the worn and tattered jeans. He was pretty proud of the way that he flicked the button open on the first attempt. His hands slipped into the warmth of Dean's boxers, closing around his length. He was almost positive that the sound that Dean released was illegal somewhere, because it sent an electric shock right to his cock, making him even harder.   
"God, I've imagined this, you know?" Castiel growled, releasing Dean to hook his thumbs in Dean's boxers and jeans, pushing them to the floor. Dean stepped out of them carefully before dragging Cas flush against him, their erections brushing against each other deliciously. They groaned in beautiful, surround-sound at the feeling. Cas gasped something that sounded suspiciously like Dean's name and began walking them backwards toward Dean's room.   
Way too many seconds later, the bed was connecting with the back of Dean's knees as they kissed sloppily. Cas placed his hand in the center of Dean's chest and pushed him onto the bed, smirking at the surprised look on Dean's face. He crawled across the bed until he was hovering over Dean, holding himself up on his knees and forearms, not quite allowing himself to lower down. Dean snarled and closed his hands over Cas' hips, attempting to pull him down. Cas just smirked in response, leaned down enough to brush his chest across Dean's, then pulled himself back up.  
"You're a God damned tease." Dean groaned, squirming on the bed beneath him. Cas let out a throaty chuckle and leaned in to kiss his way down Dean's throat. His teeth scraped over the stubble under his jaw before he spoke.   
"Oh, I'm the tease, huh? I seem to recall someone else making a point to lean over the back of the couch to find the remote while I was laid up." Dean scoffed as convincingly as possible while his chest was heaving and his blunt finger nails were digging into Cas' back.   
"I was, ungh," Dean's eyes fluttered shut and his back arched off of the mattress when Cas' teeth closed roughly over his nipple in a smirk. Cas flicked his tongue over the bud before pulling off and looking up expectantly at Dean.   
"You were what, babe?" He practically purred. Dean scowled down at him through half-lidded eyes.   
"I was trying to get the remote for you, because you were so keen on watching 'Jeopardy'." Cas smirked and leaned up, sealing his mouth to Dean's, his teeth nipping at the other man's roughly enough that the metallic tang of blood fell on his tongue. He lowered himself until all of his weight rested on Dean, their skin searing into one another from shoulder to thighs.   
The air between them was thick and heavy with the smell of sweat and sex and it combined to make Cas' head swim. He hadn't experienced something like Dean before. He couldn't quite grasp how someone could make him feel reckless, and crazy while still making him feel like nothing in the world could ever hurt him. This was a completely foreign sensation.   
The cross around his neck suddenly felt like it was a thousand times heavier, even though it rested over Dean's heart. Maybe that was what it had always been, this magnetic pull of polar opposites being dragged together. He'd never be able to fight Dean Winchester, not that he had ever wanted to.   
Dean's hand closed over both of their cocks, pulling all the breath out of Cas' lungs in one swift stroke. He dropped his head to the crook of Dean's neck, his breath coming in soft, heated pants against the pulse point. The low chuckle that rumbled through Dean's chest and wove itself into Cas' hair made him shudder.   
"You okay, baby?" He growled. Cas nodded rapidly, his nose bumping against Dean's collarbone while his hips pressed forward into the warmth of Dean's grasp.   
"I'm g-good." He whimpered, not even bothering to curse his voice for betraying the statement. Dean's grasp tightened and sped up, pulling another groan from him. He wasn't going to last long. Months of living in such close quarters with Dean without doing this every second of every day was weighing on his resolve, but he mentally began going through field stripping his Sig to keep his mind off of the tingling low in his spine.   
"No," Dean whispered against his ear, brushing a kiss over the shell of it softly. "Stay with me, Cas. Don't go somewhere else, I'm here. Right here." He whispered, pulling Cas' hand up and placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the palm. "Let it go, just let it happen, I'm r-right there with you."   
"Dean." Cas hissed, his hips moving mindlessly of their own accord as he listened to Dean's voice rasping in his ear. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd brought himself to the edge, imagining that voice, but the reality was sweeter tehn he could have imagined. "I c-can't...I don't want..." Cas whimpered, his fingers tangling with Dean's free hand and pulling the one on their cocks away. Dean looked up at him through curious eyes when Cas pinned their hands above his head.   
"What're you-?" Cas cut him off with a deep kiss before he shifted both of Dean's wrists to one hand, and pulled back to sweep the flat of his tongue over his own hand. He replaced Dean's earlier position and set a rapid pace, moving over their lengths with more ease then he would have imagined. Dean felt like Heaven against him. He was steel wrapped in velvet, hard and soft all at once, and it was combined to drive Cas mad.   
The little mewls and deep, rumbling groans coming from Dean did nothing to ease his slow descent into insanity, but it was a ride that he was glad to endure. When he kissed Dean again, he tasted the dull flavor of the tobbacco that Dean always had tucked into his lip, and the minty chewing gum that he tried to use to fool Sammy into thinking he quit. But, below all of that, he tasted like something dark and dangerous. He tasted like Dean.   
"Cas," Dean rasped, his hands flexing in Cas' grasp. "Cas, you gotta..." He swallowed thickly and bucked up into Cas' fingers. "Come for me, Cas. Please." Cas gave him a devilish grin and leaned into to bite at his ear lobe.   
"You first, Dean." He snarled. Cas was sure that the choked sound that scratched its way from the back of Dean's throat seconds before he came over Cas' fingers would be etched into his brain for the rest of his life. A few stuttered thrusts later and he was following him over the edge, sparks of white exploding behind his eye lids as he came across their stomachs with a groan.   
Cas rolled off of Dean's chest, his limbs spreading across the bed and his chest heaving in tandem with Dean's. They sat in silence for a long moment, sweat and come drying on their skin, the raspy sound of their claming breaths the only sound in the blissfully quiet house.   
"Why in the hell did we wait that long to do that?" Cas finally gasped, rolling his head on the pillow to look at Dean with a lazy smile. Dean huffed a laugh and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and carding his fingers through Cas' tousled hair.   
"I don't know, something about one of us getting shot, and one of us being enough of a gentleman to wait until he was healed to ravish him." He placed a chaste kiss to Cas' cheek.   
"Hmm," Cas hummed happily, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of Dean's nails scratching over his scalp. "I appreciate the sentiment, oh, chivalrous knight." He yelped when Dean's finger nail dug into the soft skin behind his ear a bit roughly, scowling at him playfully.   
"Smartass. It wasn't like I was going to throw you down and fuck you through the mattress when breathing was your biggest achievement of the day."   
"Uh, excuse me, but if I remember correctly, I was the one throwing you onto the mattress." Dean scoffed and propped himself up a bit higher so that he could scowl down at Cas.  
"Only because I didn't want to hurt you! I'm totally the topper in this relationship." He replied, his mouth twisting into a petulant frown. Cas laughed loudly, his nose crinkling in the way that Dean always found so endearing, and reached up to smooth the wrinkles in Dean's forehead with his thumb.   
"Oh, did I hurt your fragile ego?" Dean growled low in his throat and glared at Cas. "I'm kidding, you big baby." He prodded Dean in the ribs and dropped a kiss to his collarbone over the purpling outline of his own teeth marks. Dean watched him carefully before leaning forward and swiping his fingers through the small pool of come on Cas' stomach before bringing them to his mouth, his eyes locking on Cas' as he did so. "Dean." Cas growled, his eyes darkening. Dean smiled down at him, kissing him softly, the salty tang of both of them hovering on Dean's tongue. Cas chuckled, looping his arm around Dean's neck.  
"This isn't quite how I imagined this going." He murmured into another kiss. Dean pulled back and looked down at him curiously.  
"Oh?"   
"Uh-uh. I wanted to wine," He paused and placed another kiss to the end of Dean's nose. "And dine you. Make it special. I figured, if you could go through romancing me to make your mother proud, I could romance you as well."   
"So, you were going to get me drunk and take advantage of me? Why, Sheriff Novak, how down right despicable of you." Dean rumbled.  
"Hmm, I believe I said 'wine and dine', Mister Winchester. It's much more romantic." Dean rumbled and laughed and pulled Cas closer to him, kissing him deeply.  
"No chick-flick moments, babe. And you didn't need to wine-and-dine me. All you had to do was ask." Dean smirked. Castiel chuckled, his fingers twining in the curls of hair at the nape of Dean's neck. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes roaming over Dean's chest.   
"You have so many scars, Dean." He whispered, brushing his fingers over a particularly long, ridged scar that ran from the spur of his right shoulder to just before his sternum.   
"I've been around the block a time, or two, Cas." Dean chuckled, watching Cas through lidded eyes. Cas frowned, but continued to map out the trails of the scars. He found a purple, jagged scar just under Dean's arm, just below the jut of his last rib on the left side, and ran his thumb over it slowly. "Bar fight. Guy got handsy with some girl who didn't want him touchin' her, I stepped in, he sliced me open with a busted beer bottle."   
"Oh, Dean." Cas gasped, leaning in to place a kiss to the scar.  
"S'alright, the guy didn't get to hurt her, that's what was important." Cas nodded and moved on to the next scar; It was short, but looked as though it had been deep, and was situated just above his belly button.   
"This one?"  
"Got cut open trying to climb over a fence to make it home before Dad got back when I was in high school. Freshman year. I was supposed to have taken the bus home after school, but I ended up spending the school day under the bleachers with the punter on the football team." Dean waggled his eyebrows at him, drawing an eyeroll from Castiel as he kissed that one as well. They went through the routine for each one of Dean's scars that Castiel found, until he reached the last one.  
The scar was thin, and Castiel briefly questioned how he'd never noticed it before. It ran from just below Dean's left ear, along the underside of the curve of his jaw, and ended just under his chin.   
"Jesus," He breathed, tracing the scar lightly with his index finger. "What's this one from, Dean?" Dean's eyes flickered with pain, and Cas almost withdrew the question, but he wanted to know. He wanted to know every scar and scrap of Dean's past, because it was Dean.  
"That, uh," He cleared his throat and shifted on the mattress. "Dad. One night, he came home, shit-faced, slobbering drunk. He was worse then I'd ever seen him. I remember, I'd passed out on the couch waiting for him after Sammy went to bed. I was...I don't know, maybe thirteen, Sammy was still pretty little. He had got out of bed to get a drink in the middle of the night, and Dad caught him in the kitchen." Dean paused, swallowing thickly as he looked down at Cas, his eyes misty. "He started beatin' on Sammy for being outta bed, so I ran into the kitchen and started hittin' him, ya know? I mean, he was gonna hurt Sam real bad, I had to stop him, Cas." Cas smoothed the flat of his palm over the side of Dean's face, nodding slowly.  
"Dean, you don't have to-." His words were cut off when Dean's hand closed over his wrist and brought Cas' knuckles to his lips, his thumb stroking over the pulse point.   
"I know, I want to." He let out a shuddered breath before continuing. "So, I started hittin' him, and I told Sammy to run, to go to his room and lock the door. Dad turned around, and he starts yellin' at me. He told me I was no good, and that I was a piece of shit, told me that I couldn't even keep Sammy in bed like he was supposed to be. He grabbed a knife off the counter and," He gestured vaguely to his jaw with his free hand. "Couple blind swipes later, and I had a shiny new knife wound. I pulled Sammy into the bathroom with me from his bedroom, and we locked the door. Sammy bandaged me up, and I just...I remember him crying himself to sleep while Dad was knocking shit over in the living room. Next morning, we all wake up, go about our business like nothing ever happened."   
Cas gaped at him, his jaw hanging open, and his eyes burning with tears that threatened to overtake him. Dean's eyes flitted between him and the wall beside the bed, a deep blush climbing up his neck. Cas shifted until his head was tucked under Dean's chin and his arm was slung over the other man's ribs.   
"Dean, that's...you should never have had to go through that."   
"But, I did, and it...well, I'm fucked up, Cas. I'm not an angel, and I'm not easy to stand. I'm just..." He chuckled and huffed out a breath against the top of Cas' head, kissing it softly. "I'm just me. Half the time, I curse myself out, 'cause I know that I should tell you to turn tail and run, or tell you that I'm no good for you." Cas' heart clenched painfully in his chest at the thought.  
"But you don't." He whispered.  
"No, I don't. 'Cause I'm too damned selfish, and I can't imagine what it would be like to have you leave, even if I am poison." Cas shifted so that his hands were over Dean's sternum, and rested his chin on top of his hands so that he could look Dean in the eye. His brow was furrowed as he looked up at him.  
"You're not poison, Dean." He whispered. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Cas shook his head and shushed him quietly. "You're not. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I'm not going to let you beat yourself up and think that you're worthless, because you're not. Your value is beyond measure. Sammy loves you, and I know that he remembers everything that you did for him. He knows that you did everything that you could to keep him safe, hell, you're still doing it. You're a good man, Dean Winchester. I wish that you could see yourself the way that Sammy sees you." Cas hesitated, sucking a ragged breath through his nose. "The way that I see you. Or that you could love yourself the way I do." Dean's eyes brightened.   
"You love me, Cas?" Cas' brow furrowed.  
"Of course I love you." He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "What kind of person would put up with all of your quirks, and general crap attitude if they didn't?" Dean barked out a laugh and nodded his agreement.  
"A very vaild point." They sat in silence for a few more moments before Dean spoke. "I've never told anyone about all my scars, Cas." He whispered, his voice barely louder then the whir of the ceiling fan that was spinning around the stale air that still smelled of sex and sweat.   
"I'm glad that you were comfortable with telling me."   
"That's because I want to tell you everything, Cas. I want you to know my story. Beginning to end." Dean ran his fingers over Cas' shoulder blade softly as he spoke. "The pages of it before the day that you showed up are a little torn, but they're still part of the story, so I want to tell them, even if it hurts." Cas smiled up at him and kissed the bottom of Dean's jaw.  
"Well, I'll always be here to listen."  
"Promise?" The longing and hope in Dean's voice made him sound like a child, and it made Cas smile.   
"I promise." He responded. Dean gave him a bashful smile and nodded to himself. He got a sinful glint in his eye before speaking.   
"So, we've got a few hours before Sammy comes home..." He trailed off, his eyebrows nearly nudging his hairline when he raised them.   
"You're incorrigable." Cas laughed, leaning up and pressing his mouth to Dean's softly.   
"Maybe, but you love it. I'm just sayin', we've got time for another go'round, and a joint-shower before Moose comes trotting back to the barn." Cas laughed loudly against Dean's lips.  
"Oh my God, your country side is showing." Dean gave him a toothy grin and shifted so that Cas was beneath him.   
"What? Y'all never heard none of that there drawl up in yer fancy New York penthouses?" The way that he exaggerated the drawl reduced Cas to a giggling mess in seconds. He shook his head vigorously when he was able to form a coherent thought again.  
"No, I can't say that we did, partner." Dean smirked and snagged his Stetson off of the bed post, settling it onto his head devilishly.   
"Well, then you best settle in, 'cause I'm gonna show you how we do it country style." The last thought that went through Cas' mind before the rush of blinding arousal, was that he was the luckiest man alive because someone had blessed him with the gift of Dean Winchester, and he was never going to let that slip through his fingers. 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, this was supposed to be much more plot, and much less smut, but it sort of...got away from me? I hope you're all enjoying the fic, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

_June 19, 2014_

"Dean, you worry too much. I'm fine, Sam's fine, the house is fine. Just enjoy the bachelor party." Dean huffed a sigh, and even through the receiver Cas could imagine him worrying the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He'd only been gone for ten hours, but it felt like an eternity. Cas' stomach had dropped when Dean mentioned going to an old high school friend's bachelor party. Not because he didn't trust Dean, he trusted him implicitly.

It was more accurately because, since he'd moved in, they hadn't spent more then an overnight shift away from one another, and now he was staring down the barrel of a three day weekend without him.

"I know that you guys are fine, I just...I worry about you guys. I don't like being this far away." Cas thumbed through his way through the book for his Detective's test while he listened to Dean.

"It'll only be a couple of days, Dean. You have got to take some time to relax or you'll end up running yourself into the ground." Dean grumbled something that sounded like 'yeah, yeah', and Castiel chuckled to himself just before the phone beeped in his ear. He pulled back and looked down at the screen that flashed 'Kevin Calling' up at him. "Babe, Kevin's calling, I have to go. I'll talk to you in the moring, try to have fun. For me?"

"Yeah, okay." Dean sighed. "I love you."

"Love you too." Cas smiled, and pulled the phone away to answer the other call. "Hey, Kevin, what's up?" There was a hesitant silence on the other end of the line. "Kev?"

"Hey, Castiel..." He could hear Kevin swallow thickly, and a lump formed in the base of his throat. "We've got, uh, can you come down to the department? There's something that we need you to take care of." He blew out a sigh of relief. Work. It was just work.

"Yeah, I'll be right down. See you soon." He flicked the phone off and tucked it into his pocket before jogging out to his cruiser. He sped through the sleepy town around him, admiring how the headlights reflected off of the tar which was still wet from the rain shower they'd gotten.

He pulled into the department parking lot, heaved a sigh, and walked inside. Kevin was pacing near the far end of the room, worrying his thumb nail between his teeth, and Ellen was perched behind her computer, jabbing at buttons on the phone and cursing under her breath when it didn't work. Cas put his arms out to the side in a questioning gesture.

"Okay, I'm here. What's up?"

"Well, we had a call come in about an hour ago and-."

"Cas?! Is that you?! Heeeeeeey, buddy!" A loud, slurred voice interrupted Kevin's sentence, and Cas let his head drop forward. He knew that voice. Turning, he found Sam giving him a lop-sided grin from where he was laying on the cot in the holding cell.

"Sam? What the hell is going on?" He questioned, stepping closer and resting his hand on the cool metal of the cell.

"We got a call, they said some guy was sitting on the general store porch, singing 'Hey, Jude' at the top of his lungs. When we got there, we found Sam trying to make friends with a lightning bug."

"Ohmuhgawd, you shoulda seen 'im, Cas! He was _so_ pretty!" Sam cooed, sitting up a bit too quickly and falling over on the cot again. He scrunched his hand into a fist and then opened it a couple of times. "He was blinking, just like this. _Aaawesome_." He conceeded. Cas ran his hand over the back of his neck and shook his head.

"Sammy, I thought you were going to Jess' house?"

"I did! And, and while I was there, I got a call from Stanford. I got early acceptance into their Pre-Law program." Sam waved his hand enthusiastically in front of him. "I'mma be a lawyer, Cas!"

"That's awesome, Sam, but it doesn't explain how you ended up drunk in the middle of town."

"Well, we wanted to celebrate, and Jess' parents have this _great_ scotch. They're in Cabo, you know? For their 'nniversary. Drank the whoooole thing. Then, I didn't want Jess to drive me home because," He looked around the cell and leaned towards Cas before lowering his voice to a stage whisper. "She was _drunk_ , so I started walking home. Then I got hungry, so I went to the store, but they were closed. So I started to sing. Then I met Pip."

" _Pip_?" Cas questioned, his arms crossing over his chest and his eyebrow quirking up.

"Yup. Pip. The lightning bug? Hell-ooo, Cas, weren't you listening to my story at all??" Cas shook his head and looked at Kevin.

"Why don't you let him out, I'll take him home. No sense in having him stay overnight. I'm sure the hangover he'll have in the morning will be more then enough of a lesson." Kevin quickly unlocked the cell, and Cas moved in to help Sam struggle to his feet.

He wasn't nearly as tall as Sam, so when he looped an arm around Cas' shoulder and rested most of his weight on him, it made it extremely difficult to shuffle him to the cruiser. However, after three near falls, and an almost catastrophic experience on the front steps, they had made it into the cruiser and Cas slide Sam into the front seat before driving them home.

Getting Sam into the house proved to be no easier then getting him out of the department had been, so it took quite a bit of effort to get him situated on the couch with a pillow tucked behind his head. He watched Cas slump into the arm chair opposite him through tired, unfocused eyes.

"Sam, what were you thinking?" He finally whispered. Sam frowned and shuffled into a semi-sitting position.

"Are...are you mad at me, Cas?" Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm not mad, Sam. I'm disappointed. I thought you were smarter than this. What if something had happened to you? I couldn't have lived with myself if that had happened." He carded his fingers through his hair once, brushing his bangs off of his forehead, and then shifted his gaze back to Sam. The teenager was staring at his feet on the couch, his mouth twisted into something between a frown and a quiver.

"I'm...Cas, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disappoint you." The slur of his words through his teeth made Cas wince. He briefly had to wonder exactly _how_ drunk Sam was.

"I know that you're sorry, Sam. It doesn't change the fact that you did it. You're going to be an adult soon, and you need to start thinking about the things you do. Especially if you're going to be going to Stanford under early acceptance." Sam opened his mouth, but Cas held up a hand to cut him off. "I'm not telling you any of this to try to act like your father, because I know I'm not. I'm telling you all of this because I care about you, Sam. I do, you're family, and I don't want to see you get hurt. I only want the best for you, and I want you to reach your full potential."

"Cas, you..." Sam sighed and shook his hair out of his eyes. "Don't tell Dean that I said this, 'cause I'll deny it until the day that I die, but you two? You're more then just my brother and his boyfriend. Dean has always been more like a dad then a brother, and now I've got you too. And when you guys keep an eye on me, and watch out for me, it's almost like I get to be normal. Well, normal for us anyway. It's like I have two parents, and it's kinda like none of the bad shit that's happened before ever existed."

Cas stared at him, his mouth hanging open in shock. He had _not_ been expecting that. He watched as Sam gave a monsterous yawn before wiggling back down to lay on the couch. He rolled his head towards Cas and gave him a half smile.

"Love you, Cas. Thank you for bringing me home." He mumbled before his words broke to soft snoring. Cas smiled to himself and nodded, standing from the chair and pulling the afghan off of the back of the couch, draping it over Sam's form.

"Love you too, Sammy." He whispered, flicking the overhead light off and wandering through the emptiness of the house. His barefeet hit the bottom step, the wood creaking loudly through the silence, and he moved up to his and Dean's room. He stripped down to his boxers and slipped beneath the sheets, curling his arms around Dean's pillow and inhaling his scent deeply before drifiting into a fitful sleep. 

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_Three long days later..._

Cas was snoring softly in the rope hammock in the back yard, his dark aviators on his face, and his study book resting on his chest, when Dean returned home. He chuckled, giving Cas a once over before dropping his duffel bag on the ground, picking the book up off of Cas' chest, and worming his way into the hammock beside him. Cas snuffled loudly and shifted, his eyes blinking past the haze of sleep to smile softly at Dean.

"You're home." He whispered, leaning in and brushing his nose over Dean's. Dean chuckled in response and nodded, his arms winding around Cas and holding him to his chest. "How was the bachelor party?"

"If you've been to one, you've been to them all." Dean hummed, tucking Cas' head under his chin. "Kevin called me yesterday." Cas froze. He hadn't called and told Dean about the incident with Sam, because he hadn't wanted to upset him on his trip, but also because he wanted Sam to trust him.

"Dean, I was going to tell you, I just-."

"Cas, you don't have to do that. I'm...yeah, I'm a little pissed that Sammy was that dumb, but he knew enough not to get into a car, and I'm sure you handled it well. He wasn't a little shit to you, was he?"

"No, he was fine, Dean. Well, the next morning he wasn't quite as 'fine', he had one hell of a hangover." Dean laughed loudly, the noise humming through his chest and into Cas' ear.

"I'm sure he did. Kid's never been drunk a day in his life. He's doing better then I was at his age." He replied, his fingers skittering over the material of the button-down shirt that Cas was wearing. He paused and tugged at the fabric. "S'this my shirt?"

"Mhmm." Cas replied sheepishly, a blush painting his cheeks. "It smelled like you, and I missed you." He looked up at Dean, thankful that there was a gentle smile on the other man's lips.

"I missed you too. So much. I don't think I'll ever be able to go out of town again."

"You know, some people would call that an unhealthy codependency." Cas smirked, leaning up and letting his lips hover over Dean's, not quite kissing him.

"Oh, yeah? Well some people would be right. Thing is, though, I don't give a damn." The sat in silence for a long while, the warm, gentle breeze rocking the hammock ever so slightly.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?" Dean hummed, his eyes closed and his breathing even as he hovered on the edge of sleep.

"I love you. And I love Sam. I'm glad that I have you two." Dean let one eye pop open and looked down at Cas.

"We love you too, Cas." He replied cautiously, his brow furrowing.

"It's just..." Cas hesitated. "Don't tell Sam that I told you, but when he was drunk, he said that you've always been like a dad to him, and now it's like he has two parents. And, frankly, I loved it. I love the idea of us being a family."

"Cas, what are you talking about? We've been a family since the day you showed up on the front lawn." Dean laughed, reaching out a calloused finger and brushing Cas' bangs out of his eyes. "Your hair's getting long." He mumbled, pressing a kiss to the other man's forehead.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to go get it cut, I just haven't made it to town yet."

"I can cut it for you, you know, I've got clippers in the house."

"Really? _You're_ going to cut my hair?" Cas asked skeptically, pulling his sunglasses off to stare at Dean properly. Dean scowled down at him, pinching the skin just over his ribs and causing Cas to yelp.

"Yes, smartass, I used to trim Sammy's hair when he was a kid. I'm very good at it, thank you very much. C'mon, let's go cut that mop off." Dean was out of the hammock and halfway to the house before Cas had a chance to protest. He sighed and rolled out of the hammock, picking up Dean's duffel and his book before following Dean's boots prints into the house.

He leaned against the wall, watching as Dean shuffled between the kitchen and the bathroom to grab the hair clippers, a ragged towel, and a chair. He set the chair near the counter top and patted it, gesturing for Cas to take a seat. He reluctantly complied and took a seat, slipping his shirt off his shoulders as he did so.

Dean's hand fell heavily on his shoulder, the warmth of his palm spreading through Cas so quickly it may as well have been a wildfire. He shuddered, but put the thoughts of throwing Dean against the kitchen wall out of his head.

Cas silently willed himself to remain still as the whir of the clippers filled the air. Dean's lips brushing over the back of his neck were certainly doing nothing to help that.

The cool metal and plastic touched his head and clumps of hair began falling softly on his bare shoulders. He relaxed when Dean's fingers began following the path of the clippers, smoothing through the shorter hair and over his scalp. He hummed low in his throat, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

Castiel's muscles quivered under Dean's hand when it ran down the back of his neck and smoothed over his shoulder, brushing the hair onto the floor. Dean chuckled at the shudder and shushed quietly through his teeth. Cas felt himself melting back into the chair, allowing Dean to go about cutting the shaggy mop that he'd been calling hair.

"Done." Dean finally whispered, fifteen minutes later. Cas stood and shook his head, shaking all of the stray strands out. He stepped into the bathroom and ran a hand over his shortened hair, smiling softly.

"It's great, Dean." He turned to face where Dean was leaning against the bathroom doorframe. "Thank you." Dean stepped closer and let his hands rest on Cas' hips, dipping his head to kiss him softly.

"Told you I could cut hair." He mumbled against Cas' mouth, smirking playfully. Cas rolled his eyes and pulled back.

"Arrogance isn't becoming, Dean." He chastised, kissing Dean's chin before going back out into the kitchen. "Does, uh," Cas stared at Dean, rolling the words he wanted to say around his tongue a few times. "Does Sam know that you know about this weekend?" Dean nodded once.

"Yeah, I texted him and told him that Kevin called me, and we were going to have a talk."

"Ah, that must be why he hasn't come down here to see you yet."　Cas chuckled. Dean stepped closer and pressed his hand to the side of Castiel's cheek, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone.

"I'm glad that Sammy had you here, Cas."

"So am I. I don't know how else he would have gotten home." He tilted his head to the side, looking at Dean curiously. "Kevin said that he was singing 'Hey, Jude' when they found him. Frankly, I was impressed he could remember the lyrics, he was pretty drunk when I got there..."

"It's," Dean swallowed, his fingers twitching on Cas' face. "It's what Mom used to sing to us when we were little, so when Sammy was growing up I sang it to him when he couldn't sleep."

"Dean, I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-."

"It's okay, Cas. You didn't know." Dean shook his head, pulling Cas closer until they were pressed together with Cas' head tucked under his chin. Dean swayed slightly, rocking Cas side to side slowly.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"I've...I've been thinking. Would it..." He paused. "Would it be possible for me to come on one of your runs with you?" He felt Dean tense underneath him, and silently cursed himself. Dean pulled away, looking at Cas skeptically.

"Cas." He growled, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark. "I don't think that's a good idea. It's...it's not what you imagine it's like, I promise."

"I know that it's dangerous, Dean, I'm a cop, for Christ's sake. I just want to see what it's like, I want to know what you do. Please?" Dean sighed and dropped his hands to his sides.

"Can I think about it, and then we can discuss it later? I kinda had plans for tonight." Cas quirked an eyebrow.

"What kind of plans?"

"Dinner plans. For you and me. I'll leave Sammy money to order pizza or something, but you need to go get changed." Cas nodded slowly, turning to walk to their bedroom to change. He yelped when Dean's hand tapped his ass lightly, and turned to scowl at the wicked look on the other man's face. "Scoot, or we won't have time." Cas grumbled, but shuffled to the bedroom anyway.

Digging through the closet for a shirt, he allowed his mind to hum. Why didn't Dean want him to go on a run? Did he think he couldn't handle it? Of course he could handle it. He'd handled shoot outs in New York City, why wouldn't he be able to handle a simple moonshine run? And just where the hell did Dean intend on taking him for dinner?

He sighed, tugging out a plain, crisp white button down and dark blue jeans, and slipped into the clothes. After checking his pockets to make sure that he had everything that he needed, he strode back into the living room, and he and Dean made their way out to the Impala.

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_Iron Boar  Saloon_

Pigeon Forge, Tennessee

 

They drove a ways out of town, singing along to the radio while Cas tapped out the beat on his denim clad thighs. The smile on Dean's face when Cas broke into an air guitar solo during some country-rock song was enough to keep Cas' fingers moving over thin air and his tongue pinched between his teeth. This was the Dean that he wished the rest of the world got to see; The one that smiled, and laughed, and planned out dinners for them and pizza for Sammy. The one that let his little brother off the hook for being hammered because 'he was worse at that age'. _His_ Dean. Not the badass, moonshining outlaw that everyone else assumed he was.

When they pulled into the restaurant, Cas' jaw hung slightly open when he took in the building in front of him. It was a massive thing, with way too much neon and a structure of old, weathered looking bare wood. The neon sign on the front of the building declared _Iron Boar Saloon_ proudly, and there were three flags snapping and waving in the mild breeze. In front of the building was a line of more motorcycles then Cas had ever seen in one spot before. Dean gave him a lop-sided grin that made his stomach flip.

"A _biker bar_ , Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean frowned at him. "What's wrong with it? We can go somewhere else if you want..."

"No, it's fine, I just...didn't know that you were in to biker bars." Cas shrugged. Dean gave a breathy laugh and nodded.

"Yeah, I do. I've had a thing for motorcycles since I was a kid. I've always wanted to get one, I just haven't had spare cash or time." He got a wistful look in his eyes as he scanned over the line of Harleys. "There's just something about them. Reckless. Wild. Daring."

"Like you." Cas muttered, smiling softly and squeezing Dean's hand on the steering wheel. A blush crept up Dean's neck and he nodded shyly, killing the ignition and pocketing Baby's keys.

"C'mon. Let's go grab some dinner." They stepped out of the car, and the closer they got to the door, Cas could practically feel the thrumming of energy floating off of Dean. "You're gonna love this place, Cas, I swear. Best food I've ever had. Dad took me here once when I was a kid." Cas just smiled and nodded as Dean launched into story after story of bringing Sammy in to have lunch when he was younger.

Their waitress was a pretty young thing with too-blonde hair tied back, and a tight white tank top. She frowned petulantly when she noticed that Dean's attention was all on Cas, but brough them their oversized mugs of beer with a fake smile anyway.

The saloon was crowded with enormous men in leather jackets, thick facial hair, and black bandanas wrapped around their heads. It had a collection of signs on the walls, a pool table tucked in the back corner by a well worn dart board, and reminded Cas of every cowboy bar he'd ever seen in movies.

"So, what do you think?" Dean questioned around a mouthful of potato when Cas was done eating his steak.

"This place is fantastic, Dean. I'm glad we came here." He smiled, watching the corner of Dean's eyes crinkle as he returned the happy smirk.

"You wanna go play pool?" Dean questioned. Cas blushed in response, his eyes dropping to the center of the table where a haphazard heart had been carved into the wood.

"I don't know how to play." He mumbled. Dean chuckled low in his throat and stood anyway, tugging Cas out of his seat. Cas looked at him, his eyes wide, suddenly nervous. "Dean, I-."

" _Relax_ , Cas." He laughed, moving them through the crowd after dropping a few bills onto the table to cover their tab. "I'll teach you." He grabbed two cues off of the wall near the table and racked up the pool balls. Cas fiddled absently with the pool cue that Dean had handed him until Dean stepped up behind him, his belt buckle digging into the small of Cas' back. "Okay, you're gonna wanna lean over the table a little, brace your front hand over the cue to keep it steady." Cas complied, mirroring Dean's actions.

"Like this?"

"Yeah, that's good. Now, you just have to line it up and follow through." Cas did so, and he watched the pool balls skitter around the table, a few of them dropping into various pockets. Dean's hand fell lightly on his back and he smiled down at him. "Exactly. See? Not that hard." Cas smiled at him and nodded, stepping away from the table.

"Thank you, Dean." Dean tilted his head to the side curiously.

"For what?"

"For teaching me to play pool. And taking me to dinner. And...everything." Cas smiled softly, his hand hovering over Dean's hips before he glanced around the saloon and let them drop to his sides. Dean chuckled before wrapping his hand around Cas' hip and pulling him in closer.

"I want to show you something." He whispered.

The only thing that Cas could do was nod, and allow himself to be dragged through the crowd of people and out into the humid air. Dean shuffled him hurriedly into the passengers seat and tore out of the parking lot, leaving the _Iron Boar Saloon_ fading against the skyline.

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Cas must have dozed off, because the next thing he registered was waking up with his face pressed against the cool window and a hand shaking his shoulder. He pawed at the trickle of drool that had crept out of his mouth and turned to look at Dean.

The other man was bent over outside the car so that he could lean in and nudge Cas until he woke. The sun had long since disappeared, and the sky was inky black above them. Cas couldn't help but remember the meteor shower.

"Dean, if you drove me out to the middle of nowhere after stuffing me with steak and chicken wings to see a comet or something, I may be forced to kiss you senseless." He mumbled, climbing out of his own door and rounding the hood of the Impala, meeting Dean in the middle. He slipped his hands under the leather jacket Dean wore, warming his fingers on the overheated skin of his back.

Cas leaned up and pressed his chapped lips against Dean's, humming softly in the back of his throat. Dean chuckled into the kiss, nipping at Cas' lower lip before pulling away and smiling down at him.

"C'mon, look." Dean mumbled, nudging his nose along Cas' jaw. Cas sighed heavily and pulled back to look around. They'd pulled off to the shoulder of a road that seemed to stretched forever, carving its way through the mountains. There were no cars as far as Cas could see, leaving them on the road by themselves.

"Where are we?" Dean stepped behind Castiel, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist and pulling him back to his chest, his chin settling on Cas' shoulder.

"You said you wanted to see what I do. _This_ is what I do." Cas' brow furrowed, confused.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I don't...I don't understand what you mean."

"This is Thunder Road, Cas. This is where I make my runs."


	6. Chapter 6

July 6, 2014

"You're crazy! Hans Solo is so much cooler then Luke Skywalker!" Dean raved, looking down at where Cas was resting with his head on Dean's lap. Cas chuckled and leaned into the other man's fingers as they ran through his hair.  
"Not a chance. Skywalker all the way." Dean scoffed and shook his head slowly. They'd been marathoning all of the Star Wars movies since the night before, celebrating the fact that Cas had the night off for the first time since the night at the saloon.  
"I think you're misguided and must have been horrifically sheltered as a child. You're lucky I love you." Dean grumbled, but his mouth twisted into a smirk when he leaned down and kissed Cas softly.  
"Hmm, lucky, huh?" Cas hummed, running his fingers along the back of Dean's neck and smiling up at him, the movie becoming white noise in the background.  
"Yes. Lucky." He replied, his voice sounding far louder then it should have when it echoed back off the bare walls.  
The house had been so quiet without Sam tromping around, since he'd decided to spend the night at Jess' the night before, that they'd decided they needed to watch something. Cas had made the comment that it was probably pathetic that they couldn't go one night without Sam without going stir crazy, but, hey, they were family. What was family for if not to be unhealthily attatched to?  
Cas turned his head against Dean's stomach, inhaling the scents clinging to the soft cotton t-shirt. He smiled at the heavy scent of his laundry detergent and cologne mixed with the stinging scent of moonshine that had dripped onto the fabric from the still. The topic of going on a run had been pointedly avoided since the night that Dean had taken Cas to Thunder Road, though they'd spent hours sitting on the hood of the Impala, staring down the empty road and talking about the things that Dean had done.  
Every time that Cas had thought about bringing up the subject, he just remembered the flash of pain in Dean's eyes the first time he'd asked, and the way his face had fallen when he talked about all the things he'd had to do in his life to protect Sammy, and to keep Sammy fed and clothed. Dean wasn't a moonshiner by choice, he'd done it out of necessity.  
The three jobs he'd been working (waiting tables at the Roadhouse, bartending once he finished his waiting shift, and fixing up junkers at Bobby's) hadn't been been cutting it when Benny, some smooth-talker from the south, had approached him. He was closing down the Roadhouse when Benny had swaggered his way in and convinced Dean to take a run with him. The wad of cash he'd had in his pocket after was enough to convince him, and he hadn't turned back.  
"When did Sam say he was coming home?" Cas whispered, his fingers falling to slip under the hem of Dean's shirt, sending a shiver through the other man. Dean smirked down at him, his arm wrapping around Cas' waist and flipping them so that Cas was pinned underneath him.  
"He's staying at Jess' until after dinner. So we," Dean smirked, his mouth descending on Cas' neck. "Have the evening to ourselves." Cas nodded and reached down to tug the hem of Dean's shirt up, exposing his back while Dean's mouth continued its assault on his collarbone. Cas' thumbs had just made their way under Dean's pant leg when the front door burst open, causing them to spring into sitting positions.  
"What the fuck?" Dean yelped, scrambling to his feet and turning to face the door. They were both shocked when Jess dashed through the doorway, her face red, her hair frazzled, and tears staining her cheeks.  
"Jess?" Cas questioned, pushing past Dean and settling his hands on her shoulders, ducking to look her in the eye. She gave him a response that was nothing more then a choked sob. "Jess, honey, what's wrong? Where's Sam?" Cas tried his best to keep his voice even so he didn't freak her out, but the fact that Sam wasn't in tow behind her had his entire body thrumming with nervous energy.  
"He's...they..." She vaguely pointed in the direction of the door. Cas was out the door and down the front steps, Dean following closely behind, before he could ask another question. He almost slipped in the slick mud as he rounded the front of Jess' car, but he thankfully recovered his footing. His heart stopped when he saw Sam's form slumped over in the backseat when he threw the door open, the metallic scent of blood hitting him in the face like a wall.  
Sam's face was bloodied and bruised, his eye swollen so heavily that his eyebrow was nearly touching his cheekbone. From the way that his mouth hung open, Cas could see the bloody, pulpy gaps between his teeth where some had obviously been beaten out. His eyes were closed, but he was still groaning softly in his unconcious state. Cas also noted that his arms were curled around his torso defensively, so he assumed that there was damage under the bloodstained t-shirt as well.  
"Sam?! Sammy?!" Dean roared from the other side of the car. He threw the opposite door open and crouched through the doorframe, watching as Cas felt the soft skin under the curve of Sam's jaw. He heaved a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse thumping under his fingers.  
"Dean," Cas soothed, his eyes flitting up to meet Dean's wild gaze. "He's alive, but we need to get him to the hospital. Now. You take Jess in your car, I'll drive him in this one." Dean stared at Sam, his eyes unblinking. "DEAN!" Cas' deep, booming command seemed to shake him enough that he nodded and shuffled Jess into the Impala.  
Cas sprinted to the cruiser and snagged the gumball siren from the passenger's seat before sliding into the driver's seat of Jess' sedan. He placed the gumball on the dashboard, flicking it on until the red light circled and tore out of the driveway, speeding to the hospital.  
His free hand remained clenched around his cross necklace, whispered prayers falling from his lips and tears burning his throat, until the were loading Sammy onto a gurney in the emergency bay and he had an armful of panicked Dean Winchester. They watched as doctors hustled around him and he disappeared behind swinging doors in a flash of scrubs and medical terminology.

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It took an hour, and more cups of coffee then any one person should ever ingest in an hour's time to calm Jess enough to get any semblance of a sensical story from her. Dean was pacing the length of the waiting room anxiously, his hands fisted in his hair, while Cas perched on the chair next to Jess, his notepad in hand.  
"Okay, Jess, I need you to tell me exactly what happened, think you can do that for me?" Jess nodded, snuffling loudly and wiping at her eyes.  
"We were going down to the Roadhouse to get dinner." She started slowly, her voice hoarse from crying. "And we had just pulled in when these guys came up and started giving Sam a hard time. They asked him if he was Dean's little brother." Dean's head snapped towards her.  
"Who was it, Jess?"  
"I don't know their names, they didn't say. All they said was that 'Dean's boyfriend fucked with the wrong group of people when he killed Crowley'." She drew the back of her hand across her nose. "And, Sam was fine with that, he was trying to brush them off. He...he kept telling them that he had no idea what they were talking about, but they wouldn't let it go, they kept pushing him. They told him Cas was just a..." She paused, her gaze flicking between Cas and Dean and a blush creeping up her neck. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. "She said that 'he was just some stupid faggot'. That's what got Sam mad. He...he hit them, but there were a bunch of guys and they just....they wouldn't stop until the bartender chased them off. Then I didn't know what to do, I was just...I was so scared, but Sam said to get Dean."  
Cas' jaw fell open and he stood, staggering out of the waiting room. He made it all the way to the bushes outside the sliding door before he doubled over, heaving everything he'd eaten that day in a splattered messing on the ground. He was still wracked with dry heaves when he felt Dean's palm between his shoulder blades.  
"It's Crowley's crew." He whispered when he finally was able to regain control over his own digestive system. "I killed him, and they almost beat Sam to death for it. This...Dean, I did this."  
"Cas, don't look at it like that. The doctor said that Sammy is looking like he'll pull through all of this. Now, I can't say that the crew will be as lucky when I get my hands on them." Dean snarled, his hands tightening. Cas wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened up on shaking legs.  
"No," He shook his head. "You need to stay here. For Sammy. I'll take care of it. I know where Crowley was running his 'shine out of. When Sam wakes up, he's going to want to see you. He's going to need his brother. And Jess. He needs his family, Dean." Dean's brow furrowed.  
"You're his family too, Cas." He whispered, reaching out to place his hand on Cas' shoulder, but Cas shrugged it off. He moved forward and tucked his hand into Dean's pocket, his hands closing around Baby's keys. Dean eyed him cautiously when he saw them clenched in Cas' fingers.  
"If it weren't for me and my career, he wouldn't be in here in the first place. I shouldn't have drug you guys into this. I knew that and I ignored it because I was selfish! I'm not going to be selfish anymore, Dean." Cas snapped, starting to walk toward the parking lot before Dean could protest. "You'll need to take Jess' car to the house. She has the keys."  
"If you do something stupid and the department finds out, you'll lose everything! I thought you were all about that 'what would Jesus do?' bullshit? You drug me to church every God damned week for months, and now you're just going to throw it all away?"  
"God?" Cas spat, pausing and glancing over his shoulder. "Don't pull the God card with me, Dean. Where the fuck was he when they were beating the shit out of your brother?! How can you be so fucking cavalier about this whole situation?! They beat Sammy and you don't seem to give half a damn if they pay for it or not!"  
"You think I don't care that my brother is laying on a gurney in there? 'Cause I do! The only job I've ever had was to take care of Sammy, and I haven't done that! I couldn't keep him safe, and that makes me feel like shit, but I also don't want you throwing your life away!"  
"What does it matter?" Cas scoffed, a helpless, distorted laugh falling from his lips. Dean stared at him in disbelief for a few moments before raking his hands through his hair and shaking his head.  
"It matters because we love you, Cas. Believe it or not."  
"I've got to do this Dean. You're not going to stop me." Cas sighed, continuing towards the car, signaling that he was done with the conversation.  
"Cas, c'mon! This isn't....you don't need to do this, Cas! He's my brother! Shouldn't I be the one that goes after these sons of bitches?!" Dean growled. Cas shook his head and continued walking, his fists balled at his sides as anger coursed through his veins like venom. "CAS! Hey! C'mon, we can fix this together!" Cas stopped and spun on his heel, his eyes flaming as he looked back across the parking lot.  
"Dean, it's not broken!" He hesitated a moment before reaching up and wrapping his fingers around the cross on his neck. He gave it a swift tug, the chain snapping from around his neck, holding it in his palm for a moment before letting it fall to the tar. He had no need for faith in a God that would stand idly by and watch Sam get his ass kicked for a crime he hadn't even committed.  
Cas stalked to the Imapala, threw it in drive and tore out of the parking lot. He did this, and it was time to show those bastards that no one fucked with his family. 

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The dull pounding of adrenaline in the base of Cas' skull when he pulled into the parking lot of the delapitated house. His heart was pounding in his throat as he stepped out of the car, his boots crunching under his feet. His uniform shifted against his Kevlar that he'd stopped at the house to change into, because if he was going to storm a house, he was going to do it right.  
He slammed the door to the Impala as a crack of dry lightning split across the cloud darkened sky. The thunder that followed was so loud that he was sure it shook the foundation of the house. The ground beneath him thumped with the electricity as he strode up the front steps and across the decaying porch.  
The door crashed off its hinges easily when his boot connected with the center of the creaking wood. The edges of his vision flashed red and he strode into the house. He could hear the sounds of people scurrying around in the living room on the left side of the house.  
"Come on out you sons of bitches." He snarled, his gravely voice echoing back at him off the walls. He waited half a second before moving into the living room. Three pairs of terrified eyes stared back at him. "Oh, so you're ballsy enough to jump a teenager in a parking lot, but you throw a grown man into the situation and all of a sudden you guys are crickets?" The men were quiet. Cas let out a low, sadistic sounding laugh and shook his head, leaning his hand on his empty gun holster. "Pathetic."  
The smaller of the three men suddenly lunged forward, lowering his shoulder and attempting to pick Cas up off his feet. Cas' elbow connected with the nubs of his spine protruding between his shoulder blades, sending the man sprawling to the floor, squirming and gasping for air. He was watching the man writhe when he heard the shift of air behind him, and his hand shot out instinctively, his hand catching the bat mid-air.  
"I don't think so, slugger. I'm too tired to play catch." He growled, tugging the bat from the man's hands and driving the end of it into his nose. The man howled in pain, dropping to his knees. "Now, I'm only going to ask once, who's bright idea was it to beat the hell out Sam?" The man in front of him pulled a hand away from his gushing nose bleed to point at the last of the three, who was cowering against the far wall.  
Cas' knee connected with the man in front of him's temple, knocking him unconcious next to the first man before he advanced on the third. The man threw a valiant haymaker at Cas' head, which he easily dodged, and Cas cracked the bat on the outside of his knee. The man yelped and dropped to the floor, clutching his knee and scowling at Cas.  
"You can't hit us, dumbass! You're a cop! That's police brutality!" He sneered at Cas from his position on the floor. Cas gave him a chuckle and reached up to his chest, unpinning his badge and tossing it on the small table near them. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows and shook his head down at the other man.  
"Not tonight." The man's eyes doubled in size as Cas' head tilted to the side, the broad, manic smile still plastered to his face. "We are gonna have so much fun." 

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Dean was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in Sam's hospital room when Castiel found him again. His head was resting in his hands and the sound of his ragged breaths were the only other sound that he could hear over the sound of monitors whirring.  
"Hello, Dean." He whispered. Dean's head snapped up and he was out of the chair in an instant, his arms wrapping around Cas' shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. Cas didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Dean's waist, his face burying into the crook of Dean's neck. They stood like that for a long moment, their arms wrapped around each other, breathing each other in. "I'm sorry, Dean." Cas finally uttered into the fabric of Dean's t-shirt.  
"I know, Cas, I know." Dean soothed, his hand coming up to run over Cas' short hair. When they finally pulled apart, Dean was shocked to find the state Cas was in. His uniform shirt hung open, revealing the white t-shirt that had been under his Kevlar, and was flecked with dried blood. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were swollen and bloodshot. "Cas, what did you do?" He whispered, lifting Cas' bruised and bloodied knuckles to brush his lips over them.  
"Kevin is taking the suspects into custody now. I," Cas paused, collecting his thoughts and giving Dean a miniscule smile. "I did what I had to do to defend myself." He glanced over to where Sam was sleeping soundly, though it didn't look like Sam. Not really. Under all the bruises, and cuts, and bandages, maybe. He had a large, white plaster dome over one of his eyes, and Cas looked back to Dean. "And to defend my family. I'm...God, Dean, I'm so sorry about everything I said earlier. I didn't mean that. I know that you wanted to go beat the hell out of those guys, but Sammy needed you here. I didn' t think that you didn't care."  
"Cas, you don't have to apologize, we were both on edge. Shit happens. The docs say that Sammy is gonna pull through fine, he's still breathing, those bastards are behind bars, and that's what matters." Cas nodded and reached out to swipe away the tear that rolled down Dean's cheek.  
"What's the damage?" He whispered, his eyes flicking over to Sam.  
"Broke a bunch of ribs, broke his collarbones, his nose, knocked out a bunch of teeth, broke his wrist, and his...his eye. He can't..." Dean swallowed thickly. "He can't see, Cas. They beat him blind, Cas." Cas' hand closed over Dean's shoulder and pulled him back into an embrace. He felt the hot slide of Dean's tears over his neck before he spoke again. "He woke up a little while ago. He wanted to know where you were." Cas frowned and moved to take Sam's unbandaged hand in his own, reaching out to stroke his bangs off the teenager's forehead.  
"I'm so sorry, Sammy." He whispered, sinking into the seat and pressing his head to Sam's hand. "We won't let them get away with this, we're gonna make sure they go to jail for a long time. I promise." He couldn't hold back the tears that started tracking through the dust and dried blood on his face. "I'll find some way to redeem myself to you guys, Dean." He said, turning to look at where Dean had moved to stand next to him.  
"Yeah, well, lets just focus on making sure that Sam gets through this." Dean chuckled, brushing his hand over his hair. Cas closed his hand over Dean's wrist and made sure that he was looking at him fully.  
"I mean it, Dean." Dean's face sobered and he nodded, reaching up and carding his fingers through Cas' hair.  
"Okay, Cas. Okay." He nodded, settling into the plastic chair next to Cas. Cas laid his head on his shoulder, watching the steady rise and fall fo Sam's chest, and for the first time since he'd started Sunday school, he didn't know who he was supposed to thank, because he knew that God sure as hell wasn't listening anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

_August 31, 2014_

"Cas, have you seen my shoe?" Sam called, shuffling around the living room carefully. Cas peeked in from the kitchen, scanning the floor and chuckling when he saw Sam's tattered sneaker poking out from under the couch. He crossed the floor and handed it to the teenager. "Oh...thanks...I guess I didn't see it there." Sam ran his hand over the back of his neck and adjusted the patch over his eye.

"It's okay, Sam. That's what I'm here for." Cas touched Sam's shoulder reassuringly and smiled at him. "You excited for your first day back to school? Last year of school, that's exciting." Sam's bruises had faded for the most part, and he was almost back to looking like himself (minus the eye patch and scarring on his face). He pulled a shrug.

"I guess. I mean, this thing," He gesutred to his eye patch with a disgusted look on his face. "Will probably attract some attention, but I'm sure half the school already heard the story anyway."

"It'll be okay, Sammy, I promise. If any of them give you a hard time, you let me know. I'll take care of it." Cas shot him a wink before meandering back into the kitchen to finish drinking his coffee. He was halfway through the sports section of the news paper when Dean stumbled into the kitchen, scratching at his stomach absently.

"Mornin', babe." He mumbled, snagging the mug of coffee from Cas' hand and taking a large drink. He wrinkled his nose and scowled at the cup. "Ugh, how the hell do you drink that milky shit?" Cas opened his mouth to answer, but Sam's quiet snicker cut him off. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. "Real mature, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam's reply was instantaneous and Cas couldn't help but smile. The term of endearment was commonplace between the brothers, but it would never fail to make him chuckle. A car horn sounded in the driveway and Sam took a deep breath. "That's Jess. Wish me luck." He sighed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading out the front door. Dean settled into the chair across from Cas, his eyes scanning over him.

"What?" Cas chuckled, brushing his hand over his jaw self-conciously.

"Nothin'. Just admiring the view." Dean gave him a wolf smile and reached over to brush Cas' hair back. "So, I got a proposition."

"Oh? Well, if it's anything like your usual propositions, you'll have to wait until I get off my shift tonight." Cas laughed, adjusting his uniform over the Kevlar, the clothes suddenly far too hot and too constricting.

"No, it's, uh," Dean's eyes flicked away nervously. "It's not that. I want you to come with me." Cas quirked an eyebrow. "Tonight. On my run."

"Oh...yes, of course. I'd love to." Cas nodded, trying to conceal exactly how excited he was. It had taken months to convince Dean to allow him to come on a run with him.

"Good, that's, uh, that's good." Dean drummed the table top gently before getting up and grabbing his own cup of coffee, black, the way he liked it. "So, we'll go tonight when you get home. Just...you know, don't tell anyone."

"Dean. I'm a _police officer_. I think I know that I can't tell anyone I'm going on a moonshine run with my bad influence of a boyfriend." Dean snorted a laugh into his coffee cup and shook his head.

"I know that, Cas, I just wanted to be clear. You're going to see some things tonight that...well, that you might not like. You give me the word and I'll have someone take you home, no questions asked. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I'll be fine, you worry too much, as usual." He stood, draining the last of his coffee and moving to place the cup in the dishwasher. "I'll see you after work." He dropped a quick kiss to Dean's temple before heading out for his shift, giddiness about going on the run building in his chest.

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It shouldn't have been a surprise to Cas that "moonshiner Dean" was completely different then the Dean he saw on a daily basis, but it did. The swagger in his step was amplified, his face was twisted in a scowl that was down right terrifying, and his muscles were wound tightly. Even the way that he spoke, the way that he carried himself, his entire demeanor shifted when he stepped out of the Impala and faced his crew. He practically oozed aggression, and dominance, and was _not_ someone to be trifled with.

Cas followed behind him carefully into the barn, which was one that he'd passed nearly everyday on his shifts. The smell of moonshine permeated the air around them as they passed three seperate stills. He had no idea Dean's operation was this big. Men scattered, moving to one side or the other when Dean walked through the center mass of the group.

The whole barn shifted and groaned with life, the tattered wood of the walls practically a living being itself. All of the men seemed to have developed a dance, when one shifted, the rest of the group shifted around him, all of them moving in perfect harmony.

"This is impressive, Dean." Cas whispered, afraid of speaking too loudly. He didn't want to disrupt the flow of things, and he certainly didn't want people asking questions. He knew a lot of the men in the barn, and they knew him. Meaning they knew he was a sheriff. He could see _that_ going over well.

"It's a good group of guys. Honest men." Dean growled over his shoulder, the timbre of his voice sending chills down Cas' spine. He wanted to make a comment about "honest men" doing illegal work, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not when one of those men doing the work belonged to him.

They passed into a small office where two men were hunched over computers, arguing absently about something. They were both scrawny and had no meat on their bones. One of them had long, stringy hair, and a moustache that Cas hadn't seen since his best friend had tried to grow facial hair in eighth grade, and he wore a mesh tank top that, frankly, Cas didn't think anyone should ever wear. The other man was a bit more mature looking, though his curly brown hair was wet with sweat, and his goatee looked like it was sticky from the empty soda cans strewn about the desk.

"Ash, Chuck, this is Cas." Dean hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Cas after indicating which of the men was which. Chuck stumbled to his feet and extended a hand, which Cas shook slowly.

"Good to finally meet you, Castiel. Dean talks about you all the time."

"Yeah, man, you'd think you hung the moon up with gum and paperclips, way the boss is always goin' on about ya." Ash gave him a slow smile, but remained seated in the computer chair, sipping at a beer can.

"It's good to meet you both." Cas nodded politely, but he took a cautious half-step back towards Dean, standing close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of Dean through his jacket, but not close enough that they were touching.

"He's gonna be coming on the run with me tonight. You boys are gonna need to man those scanners, and let me know if anything out of the ordinary comes across. I don't want no surprises after we get outta here." Ash and Chuck nodded their agreement. "Good. The car loaded up?"

"You bet, boss. Gassed, packed, and ready to rumble." Ash responded. Dean nodded slowly and turned to look at Cas, gripping his bicep and pulling him out of ear shot of the other two. "You sure you want to do this?" He whispered.

"Dean, for the hundreth time, _yes_ , I'm sure I want to do this." Cas sighed, rolling his eyes and tugging his arm out of Dean's grip. Dean sighed and raked his fingers through his hair before nodding and leading the way out of the barn, around the back of it. Cas quirked an eyebrow at him. "Didn't we park the Impala out front?" Dean chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah, we did. We're not taking Baby, too dangerous for her. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to her. We're taking Colt. The 'company car'." They stopped walking in front of a car that was covered with a grungy taupe colored tarp, the sound of crickets in the field filling the silence between them. Dean glanced at Cas and grabbed the tarp, tearing it off.

Underneath was a polished, jet black Camaro. The car was gorgeous, Cas had to admit that, even if he didn't know the first thing about cars it was obvious. It practically oozed speed and danger. He ran his fingers over the hood of the car slowly, his eyes roaming the glossy paint as he moved into the passenger's seat. Dean watched him through heavily lidded eyes before smirking, and backing up a few steps. Cas watched him curiously, busting into a loud, throaty laugh when Dean sprinted forward and slid across the hood before jumping in the open driver's side window.

"Alright, easy there, Bo Duke." He said between bouts of laughter. Dean smirked and fired up the engine. He leaned over the stick shift until his breath puffed over Cas' chin and he gave him a broader shark smile.

"Bo and Luke got nothin' on me, baby." He rasped, leaning in to place a quick kiss to Cas' lips. When he pulled away, he was grinning and shifted the car into gear before tearing out onto the road. Cas fidgeted in the seat nervously as they started towards the dusty, abandoned road that Dean had taken him to those months before. His stomach was knotted and sitting in the bottom of his throat as they rode in silence.

"Dean?" He questioned, his voice barely loud enough to filter over the classic rock coming from the speakers. Dean hummed something that sounded like 'hmm'. "Why this run? What made you change your mind about me coming with you?" He sighed and looked at Cas out of the corner of his eye. The look made Cas nervous until he saw the corners of Dean's mouth twitch upward.

"This," He gestured broadly to the road in front of him. "Is my last run. I'm getting out. I'm gonna get to pick up more shifts at the Roadhouse, and Bobby asked if I want to become co-owner of the garage, so that I can inherit it some day. I'm gonna start making an honest living. I want to do something that you and Sammy can be proud of, not something that you have to hide from everyone." Cas stared at him, his jaw hanging open.

"That's...Dean that's great! I mean, I wouldn't have said anything if you wanted to do this until the day you died, that's your choice, but I think running a garage when you're old and grey will be a little less stressful." Cas joked, reaching over and placing his hand on top of Dean's on the stick shift. Dean flipped his hand and captured Cas' fingers with his own, lifting the hand and brushing a kiss over the knuckles.

"It'll be perfect. You, me, and Sammy. And there's," He heard Dean audibly swallow. "There's something else I've been meaning to ask you." He took back his hand and reached his hand into his pocket, fishing around. Cas didn't know if the roaring in his ears was from the engine or the blood rushing to his head when Dean pulled a simple, white gold band from his pocket and handed it to Cas as non-chalantly as he would the sugar for his coffee.

"Dean..." He whispered, his blue eyes clouded with tears and confusion. "Are you...does this mean..." He stammered incoherently. Dean chuckled and nodded.

"I was gonna do this right, you know, flowers, and dinner, and music, you know, the whole shebang, but I..." Dean shrugged, the grin still plastered to his face. "I don't know, that didn't really seem like us. We've always been different, you and me, Cas. More gun powder and lighter fluid then hearts and flowers. So, I figured, what better place to do it then in the one place where a cop should never tread?" He smirked and looked to where Cas was sliding the ring onto his finger. "I'll take that as a yes?"

"I'm surprised that you thought there was any chance I would say no." Cas replied in lieu of dignifying, what he thought to be, a stupid question. "So, how's this whole thing work?"

"Well, you're gonna sit right here, I'm gonna get out and do the deal with my buyer 'cause he's new and I don't want any variables thrown into this, then we're gonna head home, and I'm going to show you just how much I appreciate the way that ring looks on you." He wiggled his eyebrows and stomped on the clutch, grabbing another gear as the speedometer edged closer to a hundred and ten miles an hour.

Cas knew a thing or two about driving at break-neck speeds, he'd been through E-VOC, afterall, but there was something positively....sexy about the way that Dean handled himself behind the wheel of a car. He was so comfortable, and at ease that it made Cas' heart clench in his chest.

He glanced out the window, taking in the scenery around him, vaguely registering that they'd reached Thunder Road and were blasting along the empty asphalt. His blood was thrumming with adrenaline when he caught sight of the dim headlights at the end of the road. Dean reached over and squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"Relax." He soothed, but his face was devoid of the trademark smirk. He had slipped back into 'business mode', Cas could tell, and the mask sent a shiver through his body. Soon enough, they had slowed to a stop five-hundred feet from the other car. Dean got out of the car, smoothing his hands over his t-shirt, and started towards the other car.

Cas shifted in his seat, squinting to make out the figure as the buyer came closer. He was a taller, broad shouldered man who's stomach seemed to be trying to escape the confines of his suit pants, and Cas could make out his hard features in the dim lighting from his headlights. His heart dropped to his stomach as flashes of his life, life pre-Tennessee, pre-Winchesters, pre-blow out fight with his brothers, flashed through his head like lighting.

_"You Novak? I'm Zachariah, your training officer. I'll be your partner for the first year on duty."_

He fumbled with his seat belt, trying his best to get out of the seat. He had to tell him. Save him. His mind scorched through his memories like wildfire as he watched Dean ambling closer, a crate of 'shine clutched in his hands, his muscles shifting with the weight of the crate, leaving him utterly defenseless.

_"You're a good cop, Castiel, you just need to commit yourself to the leadership of the precinct. You can't always go challenging everyone, or you'll find yourself out on your ass."_

"I understand, Zachariah, but what if the Captain was wrong about this?"

"The Captain is never wrong. Now run along like a good little soldier, and execute that arrest warrant."

His foot caught on the edge of the car door, causing him to trip and fall face first into the dirt on the edge of the road. The impact knocked the wind out of him, but he still scrambled to his feet, holding his stomach. He started forward, his feet moving numbly and his ragged voice calling Dean's name as loudly as he could with no air in his lungs.

_"Hi, I'm Uriel, I'm your new partner." The man didn't look anything like Zachariah, and Cas felt a knot in his stomach. He didn't like new people._

"New partner? What happened to Zachariah?"

"Transferred. DEA came and picked him up for some thing they've got going in the South. Trying to catch illegal moonshiners, I guess."

" _DEAN!_ " He screamed when he finally caught his breath. Dean turned slowly, glaring over his shoulder with a look that screamed 'get in the car, Cas', but Cas kept moving forward. "IT'S A TRAP! RUN!"

Dean was dropping the crate and sprinting back towards the car before Zachariah had a chance to react, dust kicking up under the souls of his thick-soled boots.

"Move, Cas, move!" He bellowed, grabbing Cas' bicep and hustling him back to the car. They slid into the their respective seats and tore down the highway, Zachariah's car hot on their heels. Dean's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. "What the hell do you mean that was a trap?" Dean growled.

"That's Zachariah. He was my training officer back in New York until he got transferred to a special unit with the DEA that was specifically designed to catch moonshiners. He was going to take you to jail, Dean."

"Not a chance." Dean replied, dropping into the next gear and hammering on the gas. Cas looked in the rearview mirror in time to see the muzzle flash out the driver's side window and Zachariahs' car. The bullet dinged off of the wheel well, and Dean cursed under his breath. "Son of a bitch is gonna shoot out my tires." He mumbled. Sure enough, four shots later and there was a loud explosion before the Camaro went skidding into the dirt beside the road. Cas' chest was heaving as he looked over at Dean.

"What the fuck do we do now?" He questioned, his voice breaking. "We're gonna go to jail! What about Sammy?!" Dean reached over and clamped his hand over Cas' mouth.

"Listen to me, okay? Nothing is going to happen to us. We're going to get out of this just fine." He reached forward with his free hand and pulled a silver gun with an intricate ivory handle from the glove compartment. Cas' eyes doubled. "You sit here, I'm going to take care of things."

He watched as Dean flung open the driver's door, shot him a confident smile, and winked at him. The next thing he knew, Dean was walking towards Zachariah's car, his hands raised in front of his chest and the gun artfully tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Zachariah stepped out of his car, his gun drawn but angled down, and his brow furrowed.

"Dean Winchester, you're under arrest for the illegal sale of moonshine." Cas heard him call. Dean nodded and continued his slow, methodical steps. When he was a hundred feet from the other man, Dean stopped, reaching for the gun and pulling it up quickly, firing off three shots. The bullets tore open the white shirt under Zachariah's grey sport coat and sent the man sprawling into the dirt. Cas' breath caught in his throat when Dean turned back around, his face a grim line.

He was walking back towards the car, the gun cradled in his hands and his eyes roving over the etched metal when Cas noted that Zachariah was still moving. He watched his old partner heave himself into a sitting postition, catching the dull black of Kevlar under his shirt in the light of the Camaro's headlights. His heart stopped. He tried to call out to Dean, to warn him, but the only sound he could produce was a choked squeak. He threw the door open and pointed, but Dean wasn't looking at him, he was still looking at that damned gun.

The gun shots from Zachariah's Glock were defeaning in the silence of the canyon walls that cradled the highway. Dean's eyes flashed with pain as Cas watched the bullets tearing through his back and exiting his chest, leaving trickles of dark, black blood down the front of his t-shirt.

Dean's hand reached out, the gun falling from his hands as his terrified gaze locked with Castiel's. Cas sprinted across the dirt, reaching the other man just as Dean hit his knees, coughing and hacking up mouthfuls of blood into the dust. He dropped down next to him and pulled Dean into his lap, pressing his hand against the bullet holes.

"Nonononononono, c'mon, Dean, _come on_!" He cried, tears dripping off the end of his nose and onto Dean's face. He felt the gush of warm blood between his fingers and watched the crimson covering the white gold band. "You can't do this to me, Dean, you can't."

"Sss," Dean slurred, his hand reaching up and fisting in Cas' shirt. He leaned his ear closer, ignoring the metallic smell of the blood that churned his stomach. "Sammy, you gotta, you-you-you," Dean stammered around another mouth of blood. "Tell him I-I'm proud of him. G-gotta watch out f-for Sammy, a-always watch out for Sammy, Dad said s-so." Dean nodded wildly, trying his damnedest to convey how important that fact was. Cas snuffled loudly and nodded in agreement, reaching up to brush the hair off Dean's forehead. His fingers left a streak of blood across ivory skin. He didn't look at it.

"Yeah, Dean, we'll look out for Sammy. You and me. Always." Cas nodded.

"I love you, C-Cas."

"I love you too, Dean. More then anything." Cas replied around a choked sob. Dean sighed, a shaky, watery sound from the bottom of his feet, his chest heaving and stuttering with ragged breaths. And then....it didn't. Cas felt the moment his heart stopped because there was no longer the slow pulse of blood through his fingers. There was no more electric spark that was _Dean_. There was nothing. Cas' hands quivered as he clutched Dean to his chest, violent sobs overtaking him.

"Castiel, you should have known this would happen." Zachariah rapsed, pulling the bullet from his Kevlar. "You should have stayed in New York." Cas turned to face him, his eyes flaming.

"You just took away _everything_ from me, you son of a bitch! What the fuck makes you think you have any right to speak to me like this?!" He growled, his voice deadly.

"Do you remember the first day that you came to work at the precinct? You told me yourself that you were there to bring the world to justice, and to make it a better place. Scum like these men need to be taken care of for that to happen."

"Dean Winchester is not _scum_ , you bastard." He snarled, tightening his hold on Dean.

"That's bullshit and you know it, Castiel. He was hell on wheels, and you were on a dangerous road to nowhere. You should be thanking me for saving you."

"Leave. Get the _fuck_ out of here." Cas responded, pressing his forehead to Dean's. Zachariah scoffed, muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like 'faggot' as he walked back to his car to call for back up, but Cas couldn't be bothered to react. He was too busy running his fingers through Dean's hair, the tacky feeling of his quickly drying blood catching on the strands. The sound of sirens in the distance was lost as he sobbed. He sobbed until his voice was ragged and he screamed to the sky.

"Please?" He called, looking up at the stars as the first drops of warm rain pattered onto his tear and blood streaked face. "You can't..." He swallowed a sob. "You can't take him from me. I _need_ him." He bellowed, pounding his fist against Dean's chest. The body in his arms remained still. "I need him." His voice fell to a whisper and he buried his face into the crook of Dean's neck. He would find out later that the paramedics and Kevin had to peel him off of Dean's body and shuffle him into the cruiser, but he didn't remember that. It was all a haze.

He didn't remember stumbling into the house in a fog, he didn't remember Sammy gathering him into his arms and asking where Dean was in a quivering voice. He didn't remember telling Sam that Dean was gone, and he sure as hell didn't remember Same putting his hand through the dry wall in the kitchen and screaming until his voice gave out.

He did, however, remember collapsing onto the couch next to the teenager and staying that way until the morning sun broke and he had to face facts; Dean Winchester was dead. The man that he was supposed to marry, and spend the rest of his life with, was gone. He remembered going through the motions of making funeral arrangements, and talking to the officers that repsonded to the call. They all brushed off his involvement as 'wrong place, wrong time', burying his transgretions under the carpet. However, the most important thing that he remembered was a single request.

_Watch out for Sammy._


	8. Epilogue

_August 31, 2015_

"I'm proud of you, Sammy." Cas gave him the half smile that he had perfected over the past year, the one that was enough of a smile to make Sam think that he was 'alright'. He'd survived one year post-Dean. It had been hell, every goddamned day, but he had made it. He'd seen Sammy through his last year of high school, and his graduation, and his admission to the college. He was leaving that day to head up to the campus with Jess.

"Thanks, Cas." Sam smiled, a goofy little grin that he'd been wearing since delivering his graduation speech. He bent over to wrap Cas in a hug, his six-foot four-inch frame towering over Cas'. Cas clung to Sam, listening to the solid thump of the kid's heart that assured him he was alive and kicking.

"Okay, you guys better head out. Make sure that you stop at a hotel when you get tired. Text me when you get where you're going for the night." Sam nodded and climbed into the front seat of Jess' car. Jess waved happily at him from the passenger's seat, and then they were off. Cas stood on the porch, watching until the tail lights of the car disappeared into the background.

His hands flicked anxiously at his sides as he walked back into the house. He looked around, his eyes hovering over all of the pictures that clung to the walls which now seemed far too spacious and large. The silence that stretched out to greet him was gripping. He missed having Sam and Jess arguing over what show they were going to watch. He missed Dean leering at him over the top of the newspaper. He missed his family.

He was halfway to the kitchen when he cursed under his breath and walked back out to the Impala, slipping behind the wheel and flicking the engine on. He pulled out of the driveway carefully, driving on autopilot and trying his best to wrack his brain and remember the directions to his destination.

When he pulled up in front of the looming barn, he mentally congratulated his own memory, and slipped out of the car carefully. He hadn't been back there since...and as far as he knew, the rest of the crew had pretty much vacated the premises as well. He had to work to push the sliding door open, the track creaking and rust fluttering through the air.

The stills were silent, the air stagnant around them as they hovered like forgotten relics in the center of the barn. He stepped forward, running his fingers over the cool, riveted copper. A knock of his fingers against the drum revealed that there was still liquid half filling the still, and Cas couldn't help but think that the crew had left in a hurry.

He made his way past the stills and into the office. He snagged Ash's computer chair, the faint smell of stale beer still clinging to the dusty leather, and rolled it into the center of the barn. He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket and placed it between his lips, unlit. If he listened hard enough, he swore he could still hear the voices of his family and friends echoing back at him off the tattered wood...

**_"I'm glad that you were comfortable with telling me about your scars."_ **

_**"That's because I want to tell you everything, Cas. I want you to know my story. Beginning to end. The pages of it before the day that you showed up are a little torn, but they're still part of the story, so I want to tell them, even if it hurts."** _

_**"Well, I'll always be here to listen."** _

_**"Promise?"** _

_**"I promise."** _

His shaking hands reached into his pocket for the match book, and he pulled a match from it, staring at the unassuming little match as if it were God's gift to man kind. He sucked a breath through his teeth, the dry taste of nicotine hovering in the cigarette reminding him of the taste of Dean's lips the first time they'd kissed.

**_"I just...don't...don't hate me, okay?"_ **

**_"Dean, you're...you're my best friend, I could never hate you."_ **

**_"That's why I'm afraid you will, Cas. I don't...I don't want to fuck this up, but I....I can't anymore, Cas."_ **

**_"You can't what, Dean?"_ **

**_"I just can't. Please, Cas. Please don't hate me..."_ **

Cas placed the match head against the striker, his fingers numb and shaking, causing him to drop it before striking it. His eyes were bleary with tears as he reached down to pick it up, cursing around a sniffle. When he had the match in his hand, he sighed, setting it on his knee and tucking the cigarette behind his ear, chosing instead to pull the flask of Jack from his boot and he took a long swallow.

**_"I want to do this right. I want to do this the way that my mother would have taught me. I want to make her proud. I want to make you proud, Cas."_ **

Another swallow. He felt the warmth of the alcohol spreading to his limbs. Calming the shaking. Allowing the memories to flow more freely. Making him brave.

**_"Your hair looks like shit."_ **

_**"I think that's my line."** _

_**"Hmm. Maybe, but if the shoe fits, babe."** _

He drew his hand over his eyes, no longer trying to stem the flow of tears and breathless, gasping sobs. He wasn't ashamed. Not here. Not with Dean's memory holding him tighter then any embrace he'd ever had. Never, ever. Not with his Dean.

**_"What happens when you aren't around me anymore, Dean?"_ **

_**"What the hell makes you think I'm going anywhere? I'm in this, Cas. All the way, better or worse, like it or not, you're stuck with me."** _

"You lied." He whispered to the empty expanse of the barn, his voice still quivering, not stilled by the flow of booze. "You said you'd always be here, but you're gone, Dean." He choked out another sob, his chin dropping to his chest and the tears flowing off the end of his nose, disappearing into the dark blue denim of his jeans. "You're gone, and I miss you like hell." He whimpered.

He remembered everything with Dean. Words of love, whispered like a prayer in the early morning hours when their sweaty limbs were tangled and the summer rain pounded the roof, keeping time with their heart beats. He remembered the way that Dean's shirts smelled when he pulled them off the floor and tugged them over his head the next morning. The way that Dean would kiss him stupid when he was ranting about something meaningless. The goofy grin that Sammy got on his face when Dean mouthed the words 'I love you' at Cas across the dinner table when he didn't think Sam was looking.

**_"Don't tell Dean that I said this, 'cause I'll deny it until the day that I die, but you two? You're more then just my brother and his boyfriend. Dean has always been more like a dad then a brother, and now I've got you too. And when you guys keep an eye on me, and watch out for me, it's almost like I get to be normal. Well, normal for us anyway. It's like I have two parents, and it's kinda like none of the bad shit that's happened before ever existed."_ **

He downed the rest of the whiskey and tossed the flask on the ground, snagging the cigarette with alcohol-brave fingers. He tucked it between his fingers and stared down at the match again.

**"Yeah, I do. I've had a thing for motorcycles since I was a kid. I've always wanted to get one, I just haven't had spare cash or time. There's just something about them. Reckless. Wild. Daring."**

**_"Like you."_ **

He stood slowly, the match and match book pinched between his fingers.

**_"I don't know, that didn't really seem like us. We've always been different, you and me, Cas. More gun powder and lighter fluid then hearts and flowers."_ **

The match flared as he struck it, watching the flame sizzle for a moment before pulling it up to the cigarette. He inhaled deeply, the smoke burning across his tongue before he exhaled.

**_"You love me, Cas?"_ **

**_"Of course I love you."_ **

He took another step away from the chair, dropping the flaming match to the ground and watch as stray bits of hay sparked and crackled. He pulled another match from the book, lighting it, and dropping it beside the other, repeating the process until there was a trail of fire down the center of the barn, and he only had one last match. He lifted it out of the book slowly, looking it over as if he was appraising a priceless artifact.

**_"I'm Sheriff Novak, we got a call about your residence. The caller said that they were concerned because they thought they smelled something burning."_ **

" _ **S'that right? Well, I can assure you, there ain't any fires here."**_

_**"Are you sure?"** _

_**"I'm pretty sure that we'd be the first to know if we had a fire, Sheriff."** _

The match struck on the first try. It was a bright flame. Orange tinged with blue. Castiel watched it with detatched curiousity before stepping forward, opening the hatch on the still, and tossing it in.

**_"You said you wanted to see what I do. This is what I do."_ **

The shine caught fire easily, the flames licking out of the still like a demon trying to attack anything it could reach. Cas strolled back over to the chair, sitting carefully and taking another drag off the cigarette, tilting his head back and letting the smoke escape his lips in serpent-like pillars. The smoke filling the barn was suffocating, and he could feel it threatening to pull him under its fog.

**_"But I want that. With you. All of it, the shitty parts, the good parts. I want barbeques with you and Sammy, and I want to take you to dinner at some cheesy-ass restaurant where I have to wear a suit jacket and everything. I want to be the one to make sure that you're okay, and I want to be the one that you come home to at night."_ **

By the time the fire had started to bite at the toes of his boots, and the heat had begun to get unbearable, he was halfway to passed out. His head drooping forward. The last thing that he felt was the tightness of arms wrapping around his shoulders. He lifted his head enough to look up through lidded, droopy eyes and found shining green eyes staring back down at him, a familiar smirk greeting him.

"Hello, Dean." He whispered, smiling weakly at him.

"Hey, babe. It's gettin' awfully hot in here, don't you think?" Cas nodded numbly.

"S'okay though." He responded, reaching out to put his hand on Dean's forearm. "M'coming home. M'gonna see you again. Took care of Sammy. He's all grown up now. Gonna be a big shot lawyer. He told m'so."

"I know he is. I'm so proud of you. C'mon, Cas." Dean whispered as the flames started up the chair and Cas faded into unconciousness. "Let's go home..."

**_"Yeah, Dean, we'll look out for Sammy. You and me. Always."_ **

**_"I love you, C-Cas."_ **

**_"I love you too, Dean. More then anything."_ **

　


End file.
